


Curses, like chickens, come home to roost

by fancyfanstuff



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Enchanted Forest AU, F/F, Fairy Tale-y, Happy Ending, Inspired by Maleficent (2014), Slow Burn, True Love's Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-09-27 06:07:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 80,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20402935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancyfanstuff/pseuds/fancyfanstuff
Summary: Casting a sleeping spell on Snow White's infant daughter had seemed like the perfect revenge to Regina. Giving it twenty years to hit - and maximise her nemesis' pain - was a stroke of genius.But who could have known that during those twenty years the cursed princess would blossom into a woman of Regina's kind, eventually charming her way into a blackened heart, until suddenly Regina's plan didn't seem so perfect anymore?Aka, the Maleficent-based Enchanted Forest story about an Evil Queen, whose curse came home to roost.





	1. in which a curse is cast

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Curses, like chickens, come home to roost [FANVID]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20405074) by [hermionewrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hermionewrites/pseuds/hermionewrites). 

> My first supernova - what a ride! What an experience! So much joy, so much hard work, so much stress, yet SO MANY awesome people!
> 
> My thanks go out to Jonna (I couldn't have made it without you, thank you for your unwavering belief in me), Lou (I don't know how you managed to beta all of this in time, I take my hat off to you, thank you for everything), Alicia, San, Strega, Mel, and everyone else who backed me up with feedback and cheers (I needed you, thank you for being there), the supernova mods for organizing this challenge (excellent hosting folks, thank you for making this possible), and OF COURSE, last but never least, Hermione, my awesome artist (I cried when I saw your video, thank you from the bottom of my heart for this masterpiece, I couldn't have wished for anyone else to collaborate with)! Thank you, thank you, thank you!
> 
> This story is for all of you and for everyone else in the SWEN community. Viva la SwanQueen and Happy Reading!

The Queen was steaming. White hot anger coursed through her veins, boiling and burning her magic, which in turn escaped her skin in faint wisps of violet smoke. She wanted to scream, she wanted to wreak havoc; she wanted to smash the mirror on the wall in front of which she was pacing back and forth. Her hands clenched, shaking with the enormous effort it took her to keep them from swinging up and connecting with the smooth surface, shattering the looking glass into millions of tiny shards. If only she could shatter what was in it too, erase the shining faces of a man and a woman, their eyes fixed on a baby cradled in the woman's arms. If only there was a way to split the wide smiles on the couple's faces, break them apart until there was nothing left but contorted splinters of their previous happiness. Oh, what would the Queen give for a chance to hold one of those fragments, edges sharp enough to cut through her own skin; to draw blood that would obscure the image further, trickling over the parched lips and lightless eyes of the once beautiful woman.

The Queen growled under her breath, trying her best to summon satisfaction about the atrocities that were playing out in her head, but she knew all too well the difference between wishes and reality. She had the gleaming mirror to remind her of the futileness of her thoughts. She would never be able to hurt Snow White and her Prince, they had made careful work of that, and the magics they had used extended the protection spell through their blood bond to the young infant, who had begun to whine in the reflection.

"Oh don’t you cry, my darling Princess," Snow White cooed in the reflection, her voice as clear as if she were sitting right there, in the throne room, with the Queen. "You don't have to be afraid, Mummy and Daddy are here."

The Queen turned away with distaste, waving her hand to erase the scene on the looking glass. She had heard enough of Snow's sickening nonsense to last a lifetime. The sweeping of layers of silk echoed through the high arching throne room when she crossed it with long strides, the skirts of her dress trailing after her on the stone floor. Outside the castle night had fallen, bathing the scene in looming shadows except where a sliver of moonlight was peeking through a gap in the curtains. The Queen came to a halt in the spotlight, her skin gleaming an unnatural silver.

"Don't feel too safe, Snow White," she said, turning back at the mirror, that was now merely showing her own reflection. How glorious she looked, how powerful her presence, the magic simmering like a wild beast under her skin. Yet she was too weak to find a loophole in one stupid protection spell! The Queen's teeth clenched, her face contorting into a feral sneer as she laid all her hatred into the words she swore to herself every day and day again: "I shall destroy your happiness, if it is the last thing I do!"

The silence following her promise should have been absolute, the castle deserted safe for a couple of guards stationed down the corridor. It should have been a respectful silence, as if the world held its breath for the Queen, it should have been fearful even. Instead, a high-pitched giggle sounded out from behind her, mocking and ugly. The Queen swirled around, snarling at the unwanted visitor, who perched on her throne, dangling his legs as if he belonged there.

"Rumplestiltskin;" she spat out, deliberately sharpening every letter until the word resembled a series of lethal knives pointed at the imp. He, however, remained unperturbed; a grin spread across his glittery greenish skin as he raked his eyes over the Queen's furious expression.

"Is this a bad time, dearie?"

The patronizing tone only infuriated the Queen further but she wouldn't give Rumplestiltskin the satisfaction to witness her tantrum. Instead, she carefully moulded her features into an icy smile, thin-lipped and poisonous.

"Every time is a bad time to pay a visit to the betrayed."

The imp's face fell in mock sadness, one hand placed over his heart, the other lightly touching his brow as if he intended to hide shame.

"Oh," he exclaimed, his voice a dramatic tremor; "Could you still be angry about the protection charm I gave to your fair nemesis?"

The Queen's fists clenched, the grip tight enough that her nails left crescent shaped marks in her palm, yet she held her stony smile, even when Rumplestiltskin dropped his pretences and broke into a delighted giggle once more.

"Stop sulking," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "I told you it wasn't personal. I'm a man of business." He approached her then, still smiling to himself.

The Queen watched him as he drew closer and closer until he was almost touching her. The strange scent of powerful magic entered her nostrils and not for the first time she found herself thinking about killing the imp, finding that dagger she had heard so much about and then impaling him on it, thus inheriting his power. Defeating Snow White would be so easy with the abilities of a Dark One. Rumple's eyes twinkled as if he knew exactly what was going on in her mind and the Queen immediately discarded her plans; she couldn't afford to die in search of the dagger, not as long as Snow White was still breathing.

"You robbed me of my rightful revenge," she took up the argument again, hissing when Rumple's hand came up to touch the mirror behind her.

"Now Dearie, I wouldn't say that. There are always ways..." His finger started drawing lines on the silvery surface, leaving colour in its wake, small blotches that widened into a full image of Snow White, smiling out at them with rosy cheeks. The Queen growled, moving to turn away she almost missed Rumplestiltskin stroking over the mirror once more, transforming the happy face. He touched Snow White's mouth and it fell open in a hollow howl; he traced her cheeks and the pink vanished, leaving them a sickly pale, streaked with tears; he poked her brow and it wrinkled, completing the grimace of grief.

The more wrecked the picture became, the more the Queen's expression lit up, the strained smile on her lips almost reaching her eyes when Rumplestiltskin was done. The imp, upon noticing, released a self-satisfied cackle, immediately startling the Queen out of it again. Her eyes narrowed, though she couldn't quite keep the malevolent smirk from her face, the prospect of a devastated Snow White simply too juicy to shy away from the suspicious glint in the imp's eyes.

"I assume you can help me achieve this," the Queen said flatly, waving her hand at the mirror where Snow was still weeping silently. Rumple performed an exaggerated little bow and fluttered his fingers, his long dirty nails cutting zigzag patterns in the air. He then opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off.

"I also assume there will be a price to pay for your... support."

"Don't you know me?" Rumplestiltskin's voice had taken on the sing-song tone that annoyed the Queen to no end.

"What do you want, Dark One?" She demanded, prying her eyes away from Snow White, willing herself to mind whatever proposition Rumple was going to make, although deep down she already knew she was going to accept. The imp's lizard-like eyes shone with the implication that he once again knew her thoughts well enough, and a smirk played on his sly lips.

"Now we're talking..."

* * *

The White castle rose from the middle of a lake, its stout silhouette golden in the morning light. It would have been a beautiful view, with an arching bridge spanning the water, deep forests stretching out on the mainland either side of it, rimmed by white beaches where gentle waves lapped against the shore. It would have been beautiful, if the Queen had bothered to spare it a glance, but she was sitting with her back to the window, using her body to block out the sun from entering the carriage and reflecting off the handheld mirror. In the tiny frame, the inside of the castle was visible, a bird's-eye view of the ballroom. Thousands of tiny dots in various colours were moving about the floor, swaying in patterns unbeknownst to the guests themselves, distinguishable only from above. In the centre of the crowd a pavilion's roof shone brightly, a crown on top signifying the presences beneath it.

The Queen smiled, a predatory baring of teeth as she willed the mirror to show her a close-up of the royal family, the picture blurring and clearing again. Snow White came into view, her round face glowing with joy, then Prince Charming, holding the baby. The princess.

Her infant face was crunched up and although the mirror was muted, she could almost imagine the loud whine tumbling from her pink lips. Apparently, the heiress wasn't as pleased about the commotion as her parents were, fidgeting in her white dress that was far too long for her tiny figure. A small crease appeared on Snow's brow, the minutest dip in the smooth skin and the Queen almost laughed. Oh, if only the woman knew what was coming for her, she wouldn't worry a bit about her daughter's struggling.

The carriage jolted, and the Queen dropped the mirror, the surface going blank. She didn't bother to conjure up the image again, but instead directed her attention at the other magical object in her hand. The glass vial was delicate, beautifully handcrafted in a way that was only possible in the heat of a dragon's fire. Indeed, that’s where it had come from, the container as well as the content, a shimmering purple powder that seemed to move on its own accord, swirling and setting at apparently random intervals.

"Makes it quite easy to spread," Rumplestiltskin had said, breaking into a manic giggle as he had handed over the spell in a flourish. "Even you should not have a problem to get some of this on Snow White." The Queen had thrown him a withering look, but took the vial nonetheless, in spite of herself fascinated by the dusty substance.

"And this is really a sleeping curse? I tried to work one on Snow White already but..." Rumple had cut off her before she could finish, for the first time in their encounter looking a bit angry.

"It is a sleeping curse at heart, but there are some ‘special effects’" he had waved his hands vigorously for emphasis- "which make it unique. You know me, I am a man of my word, and I tell you that this spell will hurt Snow White more than you could ever imagine."

She had agreed then, signed the contract that Rumple had already prepared beforehand and exchanged partial control over her own kingdom for the sake of revenge. It had stung, to lose free reign over her lands, and yet the Queen hadn't even thought about it since, her mind too occupied with the vial that she was now fondling lovingly.

"I warned you, Snow White," she whispered mostly to herself as her carriage rolled over the first paving stones of the bridge, the black wood a sharp contrast to the bright banners that announced the princess's special day. Taking up the mirror to fix her hair one final time, the Queen was about to enter the festivities.

Invading the castle was almost too easy. Only a few guards were stationed along the corridors, a snap of the Queen's fingers was enough to send them fast asleep. Her dark cape trailing after her, she made her way to the throne room, pausing in front of the double doors to make sure her entrance would be on point. A wave of her hand and a nearby mirror viewed the ceremony within, the crowd fallen silent, listening to their queen's speech.

"... and so it is my great pleasure to present to you, our daughter, your future ruler, Princess-"

The violent wave of magic burst forth from the Queen's hands, slamming the doors wide open and cutting Snow White off mid-sentence. All eyes turned to the Queen, who was absorbing their attention and fear with a perfectly curved smirk. The stillness was absolute, even the princess had ceased her crying, a baby’s impeccable instinct to mimic its surroundings, and into that silence, the Queen spoke.

"Sorry I'm late," her voice sounded out, the obnoxious purr carrying through the hall. Several subjects gasped. A whisper of "the Evil Queen" passing through the crowd when she then strode forward, covering the distance to the pavilion in no time, where Snow White had paled with anger.

"She's not a queen anymore," Snow said, and the Queen smiled when she noticed the small tremble in her hands as they drew her husband's sword. "She's nothing more than an evil witch."

The Queen limited her reaction to an amused lift of her eyebrow, while the Prince of all people came to her redundant rescue.

"No, no, no, don't stoop to her level, there's no need," he said, reaching for Snow's hand until she lowered the sword. Turning back to the Queen, he added: "You're wasting your time, you've already lost, and I will not let you ruin our daughter's name-giving ceremony."

"Oh, I haven't come here to ruin anything," the Queen replied smoothly, her eyes focusing on the princess, now lying in a white cot, blinking up at her with large green eyes. "On the contrary, dear, I've come to give you a gift."

Snow White, stepping protectively in front of her baby, gave her a hateful look. "We want nothing from you," she declared, her voice steady but the Queen recognized the trapped expression in her eyes from earlier days. Snow was secretly terrified, if not on her own, then on her family's behalf.

The Queen smiled again, relishing in the fear, savouring the knowledge that it was utterly justified. "Oh but you shall have it," she said indulgently, turning around to face the crowd again.

"My gift to you is this happy, happy celebration," she began, strutting up and down in front of the pavilion, making occasional eye contact with people until they shied away, "for it will be the last.”

“Snow White; I've tried to kill you in the past, an error on my behalf I will admit. Death is too kind for you. You destroyed my happiness, by taking the one person I loved most, his heart crushed because you couldn't keep your mouth shut. Now I will do the same to you, and I will watch you suffer.

"This," she held up the glass vial for everyone to see, revelling in the gasps coming from the masses, "This is a sleeping curse. I won't waste it on you, no, that would be easy. You have your Prince to kiss you awake after all, your true love seemingly strong enough to break spells. And yet, it is love, true love, which will be your downfall.

"I've manipulated the recipe of this sleeping curse, a quite clever quiff actually, so it will hit not the person I cast it on..." The Queen broke into a terrible smile. "...but the one you love most."

"No!" Snow White and the Prince both exclaimed, rushing forward, sword pointed at the Queen's chest once more. However, the Queen only laughed; one graceful step to the side and she crushed the vial right over Snow's head. The dust seemed to freeze in the air for one second, like a hound trying to pick up a trail, until it recognized its mark, sinking down in a flurry of purple. The tiny grains clung to Snow White's hair, her golden dress, settled in her lashes and on her lips, dotting her cheeks and brow with colour.

"Regina," the woman whispered, her breath causing turbulence in the haze surrounding her, "What have you done?"

"I cursed you," Regina replied, eyes fixed on the beauty of destruction that was taking place right in front of her. Forgotten were the guests, forgotten were Prince and little Princess, they all blended into the background as the smell of victory overtook her. "Whomever you love most will fall victim to my spell and you can't be the one to break it."

A single tear trickled down Snow's face, smudging the fine layer of dust, dropping to the floor and staining it purple. "Why?"

"Because this is _my_ happy ending," Regina said, slowly and deliberately, tasting the syllables like an aged wine that was nothing but vinegar to her nemesis.

"But I haven't fallen asleep," the Prince spoke up behind her, much as expected. "Neither has Emma."

"Emma," Regina drawled, turning from the stupid flicker of hope in Snow's face to where the cot was still standing. Immediately, the Prince's hand rose to stop her but Regina didn't want to step closer anyway. She was quite content with her place between the Charmings, able to inhale their crushing despair when she revealed her last card.

"The curse has a time component. It will take effect twenty years from now on, giving you," she swirled around just in time to avoid the gleaming sword once more, "plenty of time to realize," she snapped her fingers, obliterating the metal before it could be swung at her again, "that there is absolutely nothing you can do to stop it from happening." Vanishing in a cloud of smoke, she suddenly stood on the other side of the cot, delicately extending her index finger to run it over the baby's soft skin. The little Princess innocently closed her hand around it, allowing Regina to lift up her small fat arm where startling black lines suddenly began to scroll across the child’s wrist, magic inked into tender skin to form the five petals of a Lyon flower, the royal emblem.

"Look at that," Regina said in mock surprise, absorbing the horrified gasp that escaped Snow at the sight, "Your daughter has been marked. I don’t recall that being there before..."

"You monster," the Prince ground out, his fists shaking with suppressed anger, his eyes filled with the same tears that gleamed on Snow's cheeks. "Taking revenge on a child."

"Oh, but this isn't my doing," Regina purred, softly stroking across the flower, the Princess's inquiring green eyes staring unblinkingly up at her. "It's your love that’s marked her a victim, but don't you worry: twenty years are a long time." Her gaze was now locked on Snow White, who featured, though still purple from the smoke, a very similar expression to the one Rumplestiltskin had conjured in the mirror. "Manage to overcome your affection for the girl and she shall live. Of course," she cackled, "someone else will still have to take the blow."

And with that said, she threw up her hands and vanished in a swirling plume.

* * *

"Impressive," Rumplestiltskin's voice sounded through the mirror as soon as she materialised in her castle. Regina's lips, set in an uncharacteristically wide grin, lifted a bit higher still. An eyebrow arched, she turned towards the imp.

"I know," she said simply, batting her eyelashes at the mirror, "I learned from the best after all."

It was Rumple's turn to smile, exposing the rotten stumps of brown teeth. "Enjoy your happy day then, your_ majesty_," he giggled, his image already dissolving. A tiny hitch in his voice made Regina stop short in her victorious march through the hall, the slightest trace of vicious triumph in his last word momentarily raising doubts in her. She suddenly had the feeling that what she had just done wasn't only to her benefit, but it was exactly what Rumplestiltskin had wanted. Her skin crawled with the thought that she was but a mere pawn in the imp's plans but then again, she had got her revenge. She didn't care about much more. Shaking off the unpleasant idea, she poured herself a glass of wine, summoned her thrown with a snap of fingers and settled down on it, turning to the mirror once more. Now she would watch the drama unfold.

Snow White and the Prince had already left the grand hall behind, the looking glass showing them in the cream coloured walls of their private chambers. The baby lay in her cot nearby, her father pacing up and down the room while Snow had thrown herself on a couch, sobbing pathetically.

"It's no use," she whimpered, her voice muffled through the thick tresses of her hair, "I will never stop loving Emma." Right on cue, the princess began to cry again, her high whines mingling with Snow's. With two quick steps, the Prince was at her side, lifting the bundle out of the bed and carrying her over to Snow White.

"I refuse to give up," he said, but his voice broke and his shaking hands did nothing to calm the baby down. Snow, sitting up, looked at the both of them with tearful eyes, her lashes dark and clumped together, the blue of her eyes light and watery.

"David," she whispered, her despair so obvious that Regina released a delighted giggle just watching her. "I’m her mother. Nothing could ever stop me from loving her. With every coming day, I will only love her more. She will grow up and I will _love_ her, and my love will be her ruin." Fresh tears sprung from her eyes as she leaned forwards to caress her daughter, pressing soft wet kisses to her plump skin.

The Prince had gone still, his brow wrinkled as he seemed to be deep in thoughts. "It is not your love that is her downfall," he said slowly, his eyes fixed on some scene that neither Snow nor Regina could see. "It is the fact that you love her most."

A crease appeared between Snow White's eyebrows, but apparently true love did nurture telepathy because she somehow understood. "We have to send her away," she whispered soundlessly and for a moment, Regina was sure she had misheard.

"We have to send her away," Snow repeated, louder this time, and the Prince was nodding and the baby howled as if she too comprehended what was being said.

"It's the only way to save her," he said, "You have to love me more than her." A sob tore his body, shuddering through him and the princess alike and Regina was at a loss of words.

"If she grows up far from here and I never see her again, do you think that will be enough to cease loving her?" Snow White asked, her voice a single tremble.

"We have to try," the Prince breathed, "It's the only chance we have."

"What are you talking about?" Regina muttered under her breath, the smile dropping from her face as she watched the story take an entirely different course than planned, "Who would send a baby away because of chance?"

"I will call the dwarves," Snow White murmured, all colour having bled from her cheeks.

"Dwarves?" Regina huffed, "You don't seriously plan to let that horde of uncouth miscreants raise your only daughter?"

"Are you sure that they are suited to foster an infant?" Even the Prince voiced a doubt, but Snow White's mind was set.

"Emma won't be an infant forever," she insisted, "and Grumpy has a way with children. Besides, they can protect her. We can trust them.”

"They have to take her away as soon as possible, or I won't be able to let her go," Snow whispered, gingerly extending her fingers to stroke over the princess's fuzzy hint of hair, before turning away. "Take her now."

"Now?" Her husband sputtered, fresh tears springing from his eyes, "but there's still time."

"No, there isn't. Every moment longer that she stays here will only make me love her more. We have to believe she'll be okay. We have to give her, her best chance." Snow White leaned forwards, pressing a wet kiss to her daughter's brow. The infant looked up at her, silent at last, her green eyes still swimming with tears, mirroring her mother's. And then Snow turned away, choking out a "Goodbye Emma", the words hanging in the room as the Prince rose to carry the baby out. His steps were stumbling and uncertain, his sight undoubtedly blurred with tears, but he went without looking back once.

Snow White crumbled the moment he left the room. Her face, composed and determined before, crunched up in a grimace of heartbreak, and she released a wail not all too different to Emma's as she fell back into the couch, her figure a tangled mess of silk and hair and violet tears.

The feeling of victory was overwhelming, a sweet scent in Regina's nostrils; a tingle across her skin, a spark in her heart. This was what she had been waiting for since the moment she had realized Snow White's betrayal. This was what had carried her through her marriage, the image of Snow, breaking like Regina had been broken, from the inside to the outside, heart and hope and life. This was what had kept her going at nights when the world seemed to heavy on her and the darkness seeped through her skin, all the cruelties she had experienced coming and drowning her. This was everything she had ever wanted.

And yet, something was off, a bitter note mixing into the scent of triumph. Regina couldn't pinpoint it exactly, the uneasy shudder that ran down her back. Snow White's happiness was destroyed once and for all, and even as Regina laughed, celebrated, _breathed_ for the first time in years, she couldn't shake off the feeling that something had gone horribly wrong.


	2. in which a princess is actually a rogue

The sun was peeking through the dirty skylight above, bathing the small wooden chamber in a delicate light. Birdsong could be heard from outside, the smell of spring threading through the air, sweetening it with its distinct flavour.

Emma didn't notice any of this, her head buried beneath a thick pillow, she still slept soundly. Long, unruly curls stuck out from under the blanket, their golden colour gleaming in the sunlight. Her skin, fair like her mother's, was smudged with dirt, grey patches hiding the clusters of freckles that spread out on her shoulders. Dwarves simply weren't to be trusted with basic hygiene.

Regina wrinkled her nose, looking away from the mirror and at her own hands, spotless and soft, befitting a queen. Her mother had never allowed her to play outside in the woods. She had instead made sure that she learned proper etiquette, curtsies, dress codes, and terms of address. The skin of her arms had never been tanned by the sun, stained by earth, roughened by hard work, not until she had learned to ride. She had been ten, the very age Emma was now, when the outside world had developed an appeal to her; its green meadows seeming to call out to her, its fresh air never failing to bring the colourful rush of life to her cheeks. Not that Cora had allowed her to spend much time away from her studies, and still... those eight years of freedom had been the happiest in her life.

And then, mere days after her eighteenth birthday, everything had changed again. Riding lost its attractiveness, as did nature, the woods and grasslands. Reality had set in. Becoming queen was a responsibility too huge to allow leisure, too heavy to breathe freely anymore. She didn't leave the castle anymore, only ever ventured to the inner courtyard to see to her apple tree, the short sojourns in the sun never quite enough to bring back the life to her skin. The Regina who had been wild and free withered away, hardening into nothing but a shell, a vessel for her boiling need for revenge; a small scar across her upper lip, the only reminder of an exuberant girl flying free on her horse.

Subconsciously tracing that very scar with her tongue, Regina shook herself out of the memories. Those past days didn't matter anymore, not since she had made sure to get her revenge; the blonde girl in the cabin in the woods forever separated from her royal parents. What did she care if the princess was covered in dirt, her delicate fingers thickening with calluses from roaming the woods all day long, squalid and lonely in her desperation to find purpose?

"I can't stand this," she had said just the other day at dinner; the whole party of eight oblivious to Regina watching them through the mirror. "I can't stand staying at home all the time, while you're out there, doing who knows what. Why won't you take me with you?"

The dwarves had laughed, not noticing the hurt flashing through Emma's green eyes, or maybe not caring. Their orders had been clear after all, the girl was to come to no harm.

"Trust me, Princess," Grumpy had said, and Regina had been the only one to see the minute flinch in Emma's eyes at the nickname, "A dwarf's work is not for young ladies like you."

"I'm not a princess," Emma had muttered contemptuously, missing the meaningful looks her guardians exchanged, because she looked down into her bowl of soup. "And I don't want to be a lady. And I'm sick of staying at the cottage on my own."

Of course, she didn't stay at the house at all. The moment the dwarves left for work, she abandoned her home and went combing through the woods, always on the search for something to happen, something to distract her from the monotony of her days. Regina knew this, watching over her, prepared to act if anything was to present harm to the girl. She couldn't afford to lose her precious leverage to some straying bear, a danger the dwarves seemed to be utterly unaware of. Regina also knew that Emma had attempted to follow her guardians more than once, clambering through the treetops above them, dying to find out where they were going. Though every time she had lost their trail; the dwarves had been right beneath her at one moment and gone the next, as if the earth had swallowed them up.

Regina was aware of the well-hidden entrances to the mines, the doors practically invisible to human eyes if you didn't know exactly where to look. She could have helped Emma find the secret levers that opened holes in the ground; one wisp of magic and the girl wouldn't hit her knuckles bloody against some tree, furious with herself for failing her task. But why should Regina do so, if the widening gap between Emma and the dwarves was so delightful to watch, every small argument another proof of Snow White's misplaced trust, every fight reaffirming again and again Regina's victory over her nemesis.

In the mirror, Emma was slowly coming to life; the sun finally having tickled her enough to raise her from her slumber. A blonde head was hesitantly lifted, green eyes narrowed against the bright light, as the girl sat up to start her day. A small smile crept upon Regina’s lips, and she let the mirror go blank; she would check up on the princess later on. Breakfast with the dwarves was a mess that she didn't feel in the mood for. Instead, she summoned the image of the White Castle, its countless rooftops gleaming, pennants flapping lazily in the breeze.

The royal residence looked as merry as ever but Regina knew it to be fool's gold, a deceiving outside to hide a dying inside. Snow White had largely left the ruling to her husband and was spending her days in her chambers, staring out of the window, sighing softly to herself. Ten years had passed since she gave her child away, a shock from which she had never recovered. All her fierceness had fallen away. Stripped of her courage she now showed her true self, a helpless noble, who would starve if not for the care of her husband.

The Prince, no longer charming but hollow-cheeked and pale, had not given up quite so fast. In the years following the spell, he had tried and tried again to attack the Black kingdom, letting his armies roll up against the borders in a series of desperate attempts to defeat Regina. Of course, her Black knights made short work of the masses. Her soldiers were trimmed to absolute obedience in honour of their queen., while the White people slowly but surely lost faith in their rulers, a queen that was never seen and a prince who kept absent from the front line himself. He'd grown protective of his life at last, not the ever-fighting hero anymore that his folk expected, and needed. His life had become an insurance for the safety of his daughter, and although the Lyon flower never made an appearance on his wrists, he still clung to that last, futile hope.

Regina laughed complacently, zooming in on the prince's dulled eyes. Once a vibrant blue, they had faded into the dimmed grey of a broken man. His brow wrinkled, as it often did, into a brooding frown, the skin of his forehead so abused, it was a wonder the lines didn't stay, remained etched into his youthful face. There should be a net of wrinkles criss-crossing the space beneath his brownish hair, traces of his life like the ones around his eyes, the ones from happier days. But much like Snow White with her ever-raven hair, the Prince didn't seem to age.

It was something Regina had picked up recently, a notion from her countless observations as well as a self-made experience. In all those years since the spell, there hadn't been a single grey hair, not one stiff muscle, no crinkles whatsoever. Time seemed to be frozen and Regina simply didn't know what to make of that.

She was sure it had to be a side effect of her curse, the timing too impeccable to allow a different explanation, especially since princess Emma, the bearer of the mark, was the only one to grow up properly. Regina hadn't been aware of the time component when she cast the curse, but she was aware of the dangers and problems that tended to come with spells messing with the basic rules of the world. Side effects, especially to time-related magic, weren't unheard of, and yet Regina couldn't shake of the idea that this particular twist hadn't been entirely unexpected. Not when the spell had come from Rumplestiltskin.

"I don't trust you, Dark One," Regina murmured, more to herself than anyone else, and though clearly not expecting an answer, she received one.

"You insult me, Dearie," that loathsome giggle sounded out from behind her, and Regina just barely suppressed a growl. That imp infallibly managed to get under her skin every time he decided to pay her a visit.

"What do you want?" she snarled, not turning her around but instead inspecting her cuticles in hopes Rumple would catch the clue and leave. No such luck, apparently.

"Are you not happy with your little curse?" He asked, the grin on his face audible in his words. "Don't you want to welcome your benefactor into your castle?"

"Welcome, oh Dark One," Regina bit out, sarcasm dripping like poisoned honey from her voice, "How can I help you today?"

"How very kind of you to ask," Rumple said, putting emphasis on the rolling ‘r’. "There really is something you can assist me with. It concerns the deal we made, ten years ago."

"What about it?" Regina replied flatly. "The part that worked out quite nicely, or the part you didn't bother to tell me about?"

"Oh, so you finally caught up on that time aspect? That took you long enough..."

Finally, Regina spun around, narrowing her eyes at the infuriating imp who looked innocently back at her, only a gleam in his snake eyes betraying his glee.

"I assure you, that I won't ask again. What do you want, Rumplestiltskin?" Regina grit out, her fist automatically clenching to form a fireball. Rumple only smiled lazily, extinguishing the flame without as much as a blink.

"I want you to declare war on the White Kingdom."

This momentarily caught Regina off guard. "What?" She sputtered after a second of silence, "Are you out of your mind? Why would I do that?"

"Because I say so, of course!" Rumple exclaimed, ecstatic like a child with soap bubbles, "And you did promise me a say in foreign policies."

"But why? How would it benefit you?"

"Oh, not much in particular," the imp grinned and waved his hand in an impatient manner. "I'm a creature of chaos, your majesty, and I'm bored. Entertain me!" And with that, he was gone in a plume of crimson smoke.

Regina spent the next minutes glaring at the spot where he had vanished, feeding on the blazing flame of hatred that had been rekindled in her chest. She should have known that the imp's price would be a bitter one to pay, but the double blow of a pointless war and a time spell, that she didn't know the purpose of, unsettled her. Regardless of what the people said of her -the nickname Evil Queen spreading from mouth to mouth, faster than she could fathom-, regardless of what Snow White said -her pretty head biased anyway- Regina actually cared for her country. She cared for her villagers and her nobles, for her peasants and soldiers alike, and although she was certain she could win any fight against the White kingdom, war was first and foremost a burden to her people.

A burden she would have to lay on them because as much as she hated to admit it, Rumplestiltskin did have control over foreign policies. She had given it to him, in exchange for revenge. He had caught her in her weakest state and he had taken advantage of it, making her a puppet, a pawn in his game that she didn't even know the name of. The Dark One had a winning hand, full of Queens he intended to play out against each other.

A blinding purple flash streamed from her finger and into the mirror as Regina once again conjured the image of the princess. All her seething anger went into that single spark of power, making the glass shudder and reverberate with the pulse of magic. Rumplestiltskin might have tricked her, but Regina still had got her revenge, and she intended to make the most of it now.

The girl was sitting at the kitchen table, dully staring at the wall opposite her. Her brow wrinkled in the exact same way as her mother's, her slender fingers tapping a fast rhythm against the wooden board just like her father's used to. But the inherited traits ended there. Her eyes were a variety of greens, so unlike the plain blue of Snow White's. Her hair was a gleaming golden instead of dirty fair like the Prince's, and especially her mouth, pointing downward in a permanent frown, nothing like her parents' curved lips that always seemed to betray them with a smile, no matter how much they grieved. No, Emma didn't resemble her parents much look-wise, and certainly not in personality either, her temper even worse than the howling baby ten years ago had hinted it may become. Not that the dwarves had done much to tame it of course, being coarse and unrefined themselves, and becoming more so with every year spent away from court.

In fact, Regina almost smiled at the notion, Snow White would probably be appalled by her daughter's bad manners and dishevelled appearance. So far the mark of the curse had remained unwavering -the dark lines of the tattoo sprawled across Emma's wrist, the flower growing each year as the princess herself did- but the memories Snow White clung to of cradling her infant child all those years ago, could tell her nothing of the girl her daughter was now.. Regina could practically see the wrinkled nose and poorly hidden grimace of her arch nemesis, when Emma jumped to her feet with a flood of cussings tumbling from her lips. Her worn out leather boots thumped against the wooden floor as she stormed towards the doors, fleeing the cottage without as much as a glance back.

"Stupid Happy," she muttered under her breath as she ran, "Stupid Bashful and stupid Dopey and stupid Sleepy." She scaled a tree in the matter of seconds and continued her race in her favoured domain, twisting through the treetops with sure feet and minimally slowed speed. The mirror followed her, the image turning and jumping to keep up with the girl and Regina released a breath, feeling the knots of anger loosen in her chest as she watched the sprightly princess.

"Stupid Doc, stupid Sneezy, stupid Grumpy," Emma almost shouted those last names, slowing to a halt in the crown of a particularly broad linden tree, its branches spreading out across a small lake. The girl's chest was heaving, her cheeks flushed from exercise and fury, as she crawled along one limb until she could stare at herself in the smooth surface of the water below.

"One day," she said to her reflection, unaware as ever that Regina was watching, lips curled in a smirk, "One day, I'll run away and then they'll all be sorry they left me alone all the time. Cause I tell you, a girl can only stand so much loneliness." She held her hands apart a feet or two, as if indicating a measure, then moved them together an inch. "And I'm at this point already so they should beware."

"Oh, poor child," Regina drawled, though she couldn't quite help but be intrigued by Emma's anger. It seemed to be always there, constantly simmering right under her skin, the potential to explode but also stand her own. So unlike Snow White at ten years old; a spoiled princess with her eyes wide and wondering at the world. Emma had never been that naive girl that took it for granted she’d be the centre of attention. Instead, her green eyes narrowed at everything that was new, and were rolled at all that was old, a permanent suspicion underlying her every move, never trusting, always questioning.

They did it now as Regina watched, squinting down at the lake, as if Emma feared the water would take her secret and spill it to the dwarves. As if she were afraid her own reflection would betray her. For a moment, Regina almost liked her, this strange girl that unknowingly glared at her through the mirror, her look weighted with enough fury to let Regina's own anger dry out, like a matchstick flame consumed by a forest fire.

And then Emma's gaze lifted, focusing in on a small bluebird that was nesting in a birch close to the waterfront. The girl extended her hand, her movements suddenly growing soft, the burning energy seeping away to be replaced by a gentle tenderness that made Regina gag. Her fingers hovered in the air, the linden branch not quite reaching far enough across the lake, and her body stilled. And then she spoke, her voice warm and soothing.

"You don't know loneliness, do you? You have your nest and your partner and soon you will have a row of fledglings and you would never think to abandon them..."

And oh, how she now reminded Regina of Snow White, the sickly sweet lilt of the ebony-haired girl still stuck in her mind. Maybe Regina felt simply betrayed by Emma, who had appeared to be so promising before, or maybe Snow White would forever remain a trigger for her darkest self. Whatever the reason, Regina suddenly shook and trembled so violently with anger that when she growled, the sound was carried through the mirror, causing ripples to spread across the lake, the water reverberating with the returned force of her fury. The bird startled and fluttered up and away, the girl's attention long gone from it and now fixed on the lake.

"Who's there?" She asked, and somewhere in the back of her mind, Regina registered with surprise that her voice wasn't shaking, just a solid question that dared an answer.

She considered not replying for a second, but Emma's eyes had resumed her distrustful gleam, the expression so much more becoming than that dainty smile for the bird, and she decided to talk to the girl, just this once.

"You were speaking to a bird," she said, and once again her voice ruffled the water, "Don't do that."

Emma frowned, defiantly crossing her arms. "And now I am talking to a lake, so what do you care?" She leaned forward, inspecting the surface more closely, and sniffed. "You smell interesting. Are you a water sprite?"

Against her will, Regina snorted, sending waves across the lake and a pout on Emma's mouth. "No, and before you ask, I'm not a nymph either. I am... someone who has known you for a long time. And I tell you now, stop speaking to birds."

"Why should I?" Emma, apparently having esteemed that the lake didn't present a danger, let herself dangle off the branch by her legs, extending a finger to poke the water. Concentric circles spread from the point she had touched, momentarily blurring the image in Regina's mirror, until she changed her view to one from above.

"Because birds are fluttering vermin, undeserving of human conversation," Regina said, Emma sitting up again in confusion, now narrowing her eyes at the cover of leaves over her. "You do realize that wildlife doesn't understand you?"

"Yet here I am, getting called out by first a lake and now a tree," Emma countered, and a chuckle rustled through the linden.

"Technically, I am neither."

The girl frowned, and Regina could practically see the cogs turning in her head. Then a flash of understanding washed across her face and she relaxed, leaning back on the limb with a grim smile. "Okay, Happy," she called out, "I've seen through your trick. You can come out now."

Regina's mouth fell open, momentarily at a loss of words. Emma rolled her eyes. "Fine, maybe you're not Happy. Dopey then. Or Bashful. Whoever's there, I got it, okay? Come out!"

"You think I'm some prank the dwarves came up with?" Regina exclaimed indignantly, considering for a very short moment to just lay the mirror away and punishing the princess with silence. Her pride wouldn't let her though - dwarves of all things!

"I'm not talking to you again," Emma said, lifting her voice to call out into the forest again: "Haha, very funny, you can let it go now."

"I'm not... Excuse me!" Regina sputtered, "This clowder of midgets would never be able to concoct... Their pea brains lack the space to... It is utterly offensive to compare me to those squirts of..."

"Hold on," Emma interrupted, and in all her outrage, Regina actually obeyed. "The dwarves would never insult themselves in that way."

Regina huffed, a long drawn exhale of frustration that blew through the leaves and Emma's hair. "Seriously? That's what you’re going after?"

"But," Emma said slowly, completely ignoring Regina, "If you're not a trick, then you must be…" She sniffed again, curious now.

"Magic?" Regina snorted, "You are very slow, you know."

This time, her blow registered and Emma's face crunched up in annoyance. "This is so typical," she said into the general direction of the tree, "the first time I meet a sorceress, she’s a spiteful one."

"Oh, quit complaining," Regina snapped, "Besides, what do you know of sorcery? I could also be the voice in your head, the verge of your fall into insanity."

"I might be stuck with dwarves, but I am not crazy," Emma said defiantly and against her will, Regina was a bit impressed by her attitude. Not every ten-year-old would stand up to a bodiless person like that, and certainly not the ones Regina had got to know over the years.

"Whatever you say," she still replied in a sing-song voice, delighting in the way Emma's expression darkened with fury. "Stop talking to birds and maybe I'll believe you."

"Get lost," the girl growled with all the bite she could muster and Regina smiled and obliged. From what she knew of Emma over her time watching the young girl, she wouldn't dare mimic Snow White again, her foolish pride hurt by Regina's words. Her mission was done and with only faint regret, she sealed off the mirror again, resolving to never speak to the child again.

* * *

Regina lasted almost five months until Emma's whines had grown persistent enough to make her cave.

The girl had spent the first days sulking, glaring at her surrounding suspiciously, as if she saw Regina in every treetop, every blade of grass, every crumb of earth. Funnily enough, she never thought of suspecting objects in her home. Not the ceiling, not the sink, not even the large mirror, through which Regina was watching her most of the time, amusement swirling in her dark eyes. Following the princess had quickly become her favourite past time. Snow White’s endless grief was a dull alternative when Emma soon proceeded to search for Regina’s mysterious voice rather than trying to avoid her.

"Alright sprite, come out and fight me!" she had exclaimed one afternoon, having climbed the same linden tree by the lake. "Hiding is for cowards, and you've ignored me long enough now."

Regina had smiled languidly, mildly tempted to let a breeze ripple the waters to tease the girl further, but decided against it. It was best not to interfere at all, to maintain the border between the watcher and the watched, the balance of power.

"Fine," Emma had relented a week later, furiously tapping her feet against the trunk of an oak as she laid in the grass, staring up at the lush green leaves. "I forgive you for your insults, just talk to me okay?"

Another couple of days passed, one of them Emma's birthday, a formless celebration in the cottage. Regina watched her unwrap a diamond brooch as well as a smooth, ladylike bow and a quiver of arrows. The first didn't excite the girl much, though she forced a smile for the expectant crowd of dwarves around her. The bow however made her eyes glitter with purpose, a welcome activity for her long days of solitude.

For a while, she spent every free minute shooting, showing seemingly endless patience in bending her bow, missing every shot at the target the dwarves had made for her, collecting her arrows and going again. Even Regina, the mysterious sorceress, was forgotten as she practised and practised until she gradually became better, her technique improving till she hit almost every shot.

"Well done," Happy complimented one evening, and Emma lit up with the rare praise. And then the dwarf nodded and clapped Emma on the back. "Must be in your genes."

Emma perked up immediately at the mention of her real family but Happy, upon realizing his slip-up, was already retreating.

"I mean, most of the woods folk know how to handle a bow," he murmured, turning away, "I'm just guessing your people did too..."

"So... you didn't actually know my parents?" Emma inquired in a small voice.

"We told you we found you on the doorstep one day," Happy said and Regina rolled her eyes. That dwarf couldn't lie, even if his life depended on it and she could read the disbelief in Emma's face as she watched him go. She slammed her bow to the ground after that, and refused to touch it for several days.

In the following boredom, she once again tried to find Regina and make her talk to her. To her credit, Emma was resourceful in her mission. One day, she followed a flock of starlings flying over the forest, speaking loudly to the birds, who chirruped in unison, Emma coming up with the most ridiculous topics to reply with. Another, she went through the woods, calling every tree "dwarf" and every lake "pea brain".

Regina laughed to herself and resisted, time and time again, to re-establish contact. Why should she, she told herself, what would it benefit her? But the truth was, she too could do with a distraction, some solace to take her mind off the war that she was being forced to lead.

She had started her attack on a part of a border that was farthest from the dwarves' cottage, gathering half of her troops there and directing them to march. The White kingdom had reacted sluggishly, despite the formal declaration, their action too slow to build up an army in such a short time. Snow White barely registered the fighting, withering away in her tower, and the Prince was relying heavily on his council, a collection of nobles who cared little for the kingdom and less for the people.

It had almost been too easy, Regina's troops advanced deep into the country without meeting resistance. Unfortunately, matters had turned then. Another neighbouring kingdom, the Golden to their Black and White, declared its solidarity with the losing party, and promptly attacked Regina’s army from a second side. Regina, relieved that she had kept part of her soldiers back, opened up a second front line and while she held her position alright, the easy winning had been replaced by real battles, including real losses.

And so, while Regina's teeth clenched with the pointlessness of a war neither she nor any of the other rulers wanted, she actually sought comfort in the simplicity of Emma's childhood, her tempers and rages so minuscule compared to the horrors of the war zone.

It was one of these days, her throat hurting from biting out orders to her generals, her head weary from weighing strategies and formations, that she found herself staring at the mirror in her hand.

Emma had picked up her bow again, practising on moving targets now, the first leaves of autumn floating to the ground, vines swaying in the breeze, and she hit most of them. Her face set in a grimace, she shot without hesitating, arrow after arrow piercing the air and finding its mark.

Regina smiled slightly, tracing the mirror frame absent-mindedly, the silver cool beneath her fingers. Emma missed a leaf, swearing loudly and sharply, so invested in something that would be forgotten in the long run, and that was all it took for Regina to forget about her good intentions.

"Watch your mouth, girl," she said, chuckling in spite of herself when Emma's head snapped up, her eyes going wide.

"You!"

"Missed me?" Regina was aware that she was playing with fire, yet she couldn't bring herself to care, not when the girl's eyes narrowed and a crease formed between her eyebrows and it made Regina feel in control. Nobody should be that easy to rattle.

"You simply disappeared," Emma pouted, her gaze flitting from tree to tree, trying to pinpoint the origin of Regina's voice.

"If I recall correctly, it was you who demanded I do so."

"I didn't..." the girl started, then trailed off when she realized that Regina was right.

"Fine, but you were being a pain in the ass."

"Do the dwarves teach you this kind of language?" Regina queried. Her bored tone, the indifference vibrating through the air around Emma, made the girl flush with either embarrassment or anger, it was hard to tell. For a moment, she didn't reply, and then her legs gave way beneath her and she slumped to the ground.

"They don't really teach me anything," she murmured, rubbing absent-mindedly at the flower on her wrist. "They are gone all the time."

Regina arched an eyebrow, surprised about the honest answer. How desperate did a child have to be to admit a truth like that to a stranger? Anger rippled through her like lightning, the hot and violent kind, but when she opened her mouth to deliver a snappy reply, she realized it wasn't directed at Emma. Although the girl's brow wrinkled like her mother's and despite her whiny tone, she only felt a mild annoyance for her, the fury provoked by the dwarves instead.

"Honestly," she said and her voice was icy enough to make Emma look up in confusion, "You don't want to learn from them anyway."

Emma's head fell to the side, an unruly curl hanging across her face, hiding the expression in her eyes, but her mouth hardened and when she spoke, her tone almost matched Regina's.

"Well, it's easy for you to give advice here. You're not dependant on them, but I learn either from them or not at all. There is nobody else in this blasted forest, in case you haven't noticed."

Just like that, the flash of sympathy Regina had felt for the girl was gone, the heat of annoyance igniting into a full-grown flame.

"For someone so anxious for company, you are rather rude," she spit out, her hand tightening around the handheld mirror as she fought not to shatter it into millions of pieces.

"For someone who won't even show themselves, you're pretty meddling," Emma countered, jumping to her feet, her fists shaking. "Besides, why do you even care?"

Regina, clearing the mirror with a wave of her hand, didn't bother to answer. This, talking to the princess, had been a mistake, a misjudged attempt to lighten her day. It had only backfired and now her mood was fouler than ever. She sent the mirror flying into a chest and stood up to return to the map room, determined not to think about the matter again.

And yet, as she let her eyes wander over the miniature landscape of her country, figurines scattered across the lands, each representing a battalion obeying either her or her foes, Emma's parting sentence echoed through her mind: _why did she even care?_


	3. in which a princess runs away - twice

War was a terrible concept. It affected so many and was yet dependant of so few, a ruler's wave of hand enough to end hundreds of lives, a single bad decision dooming not one but countless. Soldiers were reduced to a number, their names lost in the masses, their deaths but a dash in the lists that were reported back to Regina day after day. Two winters came and went, the snow and cold claiming almost as many as the battles, and when spring returned, the positions had not even changed. The Black troops still lodged far too deep in White lands, their conquests forming a strange wedge in the neighbouring country. It looked out of place, unnecessary like the war itself, but at least Regina was winning on this front. In the east however, the situation looked grim, the Golden army outnumbering the Blacks by far, capturing stretches of land every day.

It was at the end of a particularly hard day that Regina found herself at her writing desk, flipping tiredly through the reports. She half-considered going to bed, the muscles in her neck stiff and hurting from sitting hunched over the papers for so long, but she would only toss around anyways, never asleep, never awake, caught in the delirium between. No, she rather preferred her manuals then.

Turning a page, she happened to glance up, her eyes brushing over the mirror above her desk. They only found her own reflection there, an un-ageing queen with black rimmed eyes to hide the deep rings under them, and rich dark hair that seemed strangely out of place around her too pale face.

_What has happened to me?_ She thought, and answered herself in the same instant. _Rumplestiltskin._ Not for the first time, she found herself wondering, whether this war had been worth it. Worth getting her revenge through a foreign curse, worth having to wait for twenty years, unchanging, frozen in time, to see it fulfilled. Worth the loneliness, that instead of dissolving after she'd made Snow White pay, had only grown. The empty feeling inside of her was all the more prominent now that she barely had a purpose anymore, to fill it with.

Antagonizing the White queen had been an excellent distraction from the lack of company in her life, the thrill of the fight making her heart beat faster with something resembling joy. Of course, it had never been enough, had never been happiness, or love, but it had been enough to shake off the numbness that enclosed her those days. Solitude had desensitized her before, now the atrocities of war accelerated the process further, freezing her face into a stony mask, locking her heart away inside of her to make her unfeeling to the losses, ruthless in her belligerence.

The truth was, Regina hadn't experienced emotions for a very long time. Not joy, not grief, not even really anger. The flame had extinguished so long ago, the embers were now barely smouldering in her chest.

And with the fire, had died Regina's magic. The second pulse that used to thrum beneath her skin, filling her with life and power, was now but a faint whisper in the back of her mind. She couldn't protect her people with that, couldn't win a war without a part of herself. She had become dependent on magic and now it was gone. Well, she didn’t know how else to fight.

She did remember the last time her temper had flared and power streamed through her veins, the conversation with princess Emma as clear in her mind as if it had happened yesterday.

“_Why do you even car_e?” the girl had said, five little words, spat out in the heat of the moment, but a valid question that sent Regina's head reeling. She didn't care, so why did she frequently check up on the girl? She didn't care, so why didn't she toy with the child, play evil tricks on her, drive her crazy... Because she didn't want to, didn't feel the need to, and that had scared her more than anything, that fear of going soft on her enemy. Consequently, she hadn't really watched the girl for years, had only tuned in methodically, wiping the mirror blank as soon as she had made sure that her precious charge was still alive.

But as she was sitting now, watching herself with bleary eyes and taking in the wear the past years had left on her - not physical, never physical, but mental, a veil of indifference obscuring her true self - Regina found that she didn't care anymore. She longed to feel something, anything. She needed her magic to win this war, and if it could only be accomplished by letting the girl's pesky attitude light her own anger again, so be it.

A determined wave of her ringed hand and the mirror's surface slowly changed, blurring out her reflection and showing the familiar inside of the dwarves' cabin instead. Emma's room hadn't changed a bit, the moon shining softly through the skylight; it was bathed in silvery light. The princess's curls spread out over her cheeks, her face -even in sleep- scrunched up in a grimace, body curled together as if prepared for an attack. And there was the mark, the Lyon flower blooming strong as ever across her wrist, its leaves fluttering slightly with the pulse. Emma had grown quite a bit since Regina last talked to her, her face less round and more sincere, the plumpness of childhood gradually fading to the sharp edges of youth. At almost thirteen, Emma looked grim and solid, ready to take on the world.

Regina sighed, preparing to let the scene go, when suddenly Emma's eyes shot open, staring right at the queen. No, not exactly, Regina reminded herself, but at the mirror in the girl's chamber, the one she happened to glance through. There was no way Emma could see her.

And still the princess sat up, her nose wrinkling as she took in her own reflection. Green eyes, dark in the dim light, narrowed and slender fingers, callused through habit, twitched for the bow leaning against the night stand.

"Who's there?" She whispered, her voice not having changed a bit, still the same steadiness, the same challenge, that seemed to accompany her every word.

Regina hesitated for a split second, but after all, this was what she had come for, what she had wanted, a conversation that didn't focus on the terrors of the war.

"It's me," she answered, seeing surprise, anger and relief wash over Emma's face all at once. She settled on the second, just like Regina had expected she would.

"What are you doing here? I don't want to talk to you. Go away."

"Is that how you welcome a visitor?" Regina said, her tone flat as it always was these days. Sighing when Emma didn't reply, she tried again: "How are the dwarves?"

Emma only pressed her lips together, fingers white around her bow. Regina rolled her eyes, not really annoyed, the action more like a habit. She had expected Emma to react like that, stubborn and sullen, had bet on it, hoped for it to spark some kind of emotion in her. Now she realized it wasn't enough, not if Emma didn't even speak to her. No, she needed a different kind of Emma's anger, the burning, hot and all-consuming anger that could reignite Regina's own embers.

"Fine," she said, the indifference in her tone coming more effortlessly than she would have wished, as she feigned retreat, daring Emma to stop her. Two years ago it would have worked, she was certain, but she didn't know Emma as well anymore and so there was a certain risk to her words as she spoke them: "I'll leave then, your choice."

Emma's chin trust forward, defiance flaring up in her eyes and for a moment Regina actually believed she would stay silent. A faint disappointment registered in her, the shadow of a shadow of a feeling, as she raised her hand to clear the mirror.

"Wait," Emma hissed, effectively stopping Regina mid-move. Her blonde hair shone silver in the moonlight as she tossed it over her shoulder and directed an icy glare at the mirror. "That's it?" she demanded. "You pop in, you meet resistance, you give up? Look, you pulled this trick last time, but I won't let you off the hook as easily now."

Regina's eyebrows rose of their own accord and there, in the pit of her stomach, something like annoyance seemed go stir. "And what…" she drawled, masking her relief that Emma took the bait, "…will you do to stop me from leaving."

Emma frowned and Regina almost smiled, the corners of her mouth gently tugging upwards as the girl was apparently wrecking her brain for a good reply.

"Well, for one," she said after a full minute, "It's in the middle of the night. I doubt you have better things to do."

"Point," Regina mused, "But that reminds me, isn't it past your bedtime? You should be asleep."

"It was you who woke me up," Emma countered, storing away her bow again. Apparently she had decided that Regina presented no imminent danger. If Regina hadn't been so focused on Emma's words, maybe she would have chuckled at the irony of that judgement. As it was, she was preoccupied.

"I didn't," she said, frowning at the mirror, "I was merely watching you."

"Well, aren't you creepy?" Emma muttered to herself, fingers scratching at the flower on her wrist. Out loud she said: "A huntress knows when she's being observed."

"I think you confuse that with the hunted, dear. Flight animals sleep lightly. Prey, not predators."

Emma pouted but before she could object, Regina added: "Don't overestimate yourself, princess," the nickname deliberately strewn in to see how Emma would react.

She was not disappointed. Blonde hair scourged the air as Emma whipped out her bow in one fluid movement and lunged herself at the mirror. The tip of her arrow hovered right before the surface, its feathers dipping into Emma's cheek as she held the bow drawn in the extreme, her muscles barely shaking with the effort.

"Don't. Call me. Princess."

Emma's voice was but a deadly whisper and Regina had no doubt that the arrow directed at her would be released if she said another wrong word. But alas, Emma couldn't hurt her, and magic was pulsing through her veins as it hadn't done for years, her fire finally rekindled. A terrible smirk spread across her face as spoke.

"As you wish... your Highness."

The picture shattered into a million pieces as Emma shot her own mirror with a cry, and it was as if life itself was seeping through the cracks, vibrant, burning, and Regina laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

* * *

Things got easier after that. Regina kept her distance once more, not wanting and not needing to disturb Emma's peace further. Her anger had been stoked again, its shielding cloak wrapped around her shoulders once more, turning her into a deathly weapon in the war. The current of magic had returned to her blood, her powers servant to her will, backing her soldiers at the front. One flick of fingers and dozens of swords rose mechanically, taking the place of fallen men, fighting with the remaining, hilt to hilt, blade to blade. One wave of her pale hand and a cascade of fireballs rained down on Golden troops, destroying their camps and forcing them to retreat. Step by step, Regina reclaimed the land that was rightfully hers. Day by day her kingdom grew again, until the original borders were restored.

Except Regina didn't stop there. The Golden kingdom had declared war on her, now they were the ones to regret it. She wouldn't show mercy, not with magic singing through her veins, not after she had seen what she was capable of. Yes, Regina had tasted blood and found it to her liking, now she wanted more.

The day her army trespassed the original borders however, was the day she had her first visitor in years. He came as he always did, in a plume of red smoke, and he did not look amused.

"I thought I made my orders clear, Dearie."

Regina looked up from the maps she was studying. The room was dim, curtains drawn against the sun to protect the aging parchment. He stood in a corner near the door, almost hidden by the bulging mountain ranges on her main map.

"Dark One," Regina acknowledged him levelly, "Is this chaos not to your liking?"

"Indeed it is not," Rumple snapped, taking several steps around the large table until he was standing opposite Regina. His greenish skin shimmered in the faint glow from the candles as he pulled his lips up into a grin. "Gold is not White," he sang, though Regina thought it sounded a bit strained, "Therefore, I must ask you to stop."

"Stop?" Regina's brow arched. "Why should I? It's going so well. Besides, fighting White is rather boring. They’re barely even trying." She looked closer at the imp who seemed unusually grim. "Why do you care about the fate of the Gold kingdom, I wonder?"

"I suggest you heed me," Rumple said in a low voice, not answering the question. His eyes flashed dangerously, a spark that only moved Regina to raise her chin higher, her recent victories making her feel daring and assured.

"Or what?"

"Firstly," he replied, still speaking uncharacteristically calmly; "I still have a say in your ruling. You don't want to break our treaty. And secondly," he grinned widely, "You might want to keep a closer eye on your princess, instead of meddling unnecessarily with borders."

Magic swept through Regina's body in a single wave of loathing for the meddling imp. "What did you do to Emma?" She bit out, her hands itching to form a fireball, to burn the Dark One's stupid shock of hair right off his scalp.

"Oh, I didn't do anything," Rumple giggled, completely back in his element as he turned on the step, smoke pooling at his feet. "Running away was entirely her idea, I'm afraid." His voice echoed through the chambers of the map room even after his body had vanished.

Before the plume had entirely cleared away, Regina was already racing down the corridor to her room. A couple of guards jumped out of her way; one of her generals made the mistake not to, and was promptly pinned to the wall by a surge of magic that only frayed out when the door behind Regina slammed shut.

"Show me that foolish girl," she demanded as her mirror blurred and cleared, the process taking far too long for Regina in her agitated state. Finally, the image focused on Emma's bouncy curls, tied into a bun as to not tangle with the strings of an enormous backpack.

Regina sagged in her chair. Rumple had been right: Emma was leaving the dwarves. It was written all over her face, set in a grim smile, satisfaction tugging at the corners of her mouth. Regina recognized the expression, the trace of relief in those green eyes, the determination in Emma's step. Regina had once felt the same, a lifetime ago when she had tried to run from her own home. Of course, she had never made it that far, her mother's wards always up to catch her as soon as she approached the borders of their property.

Emma didn't have magic walls stopping her, she had already left many miles between her and the cottage. From what Regina could guess, she had wandered in a more or less straight line for at least five hours; perhaps longer if she had stopped for a break. Evaluating the girl’s surroundings, Regina realised that Emma had almost reached the Golden border, the large stream marking the line between the kingdoms a mere mile away. If Regina strained her ears, she could hear its distant rushing through the mirror, as well as the clatter of the mills lining the river on the Golden side. Shouts from the workmen sounded through the forest and Regina was sure Emma had picked up on them as well because the girl perked up and quickened her pace.

"What the hell are you doing?" Regina growled into the mirror, effectively stopping Emma in her tracks for a second, before the blonde shook her head and marched on.

"Emma," Regina chided but Emma only broke into a run, approaching the waters even faster. Regina groaned and willed her magic to flow through the mirror and into the ground, causing small chasms to open around Emma's feet. The girl jumped, but didn't slow down, only swung herself up into a tree and continued her path in the treetops.

"You can't stop me," she muttered under her breath and Regina was running out of time. A few rows of trees was all that separated Emma from adverse territory now, a few rows of cover before she would be exposed to the workmen. Regina didn't want to imagine how that would go, a fourteen-year-old girl stepping out of a forest that was said to be abandoned. Worse even, a girl that bore the mark of the White princess on her wrist. Relations between Gold and White were good but Regina couldn’t take the risk that simple workers wouldn't take advantage of having the cursed princess in their possession. No, Regina had no choice.

"Don't take this too personal," she murmured almost apologetically, then sent out a wave of magic. For a moment, nothing happened as the energy spanned the distance, and then suddenly the branches of all the trees surrounding Emma swept down on her. The girl sidestepped to the right and left, tiptoed over the limbs as if they were solid ground, but in the end they moved too fast and she was soon knocked off her feet.

For someone dangling upside down from a tree, Emma remained remarkably quiet, much too Regina's relief. The girl didn't scream when twigs wrapped around her ankles, holding her firmly in place, but she did fight. A knife appeared out of nowhere in her hand and she twisted upwards, slashing her bonds in one furious move. She didn't cry out when she dropped, the leafage barely braking her fall, and even when she hit the ground, she merely released a low breath of air that had been forced from her body. In spite of herself, Regina was impressed. Of course, this little sentiment did nothing to quench her fury at the girl's foolishness.

"What do you think you are doing?" Regina hissed, throwing out her hands again before Emma could rise. Tendrils wrapped around her limbs once more, roots and loose branches binding her wrists and ankles to the forest floor. Emma's green eyes darkened with rage; her body twitched with defiance as she yanked at the shackles, but Regina's patience was used up.

"Hold still or so help me," she snarled, flicking her fingers to tighten the shackles a notch.

"Or what, you'll curse me?" Emma snapped back, almost, almost drawing a laugh out of Regina. "I'm not afraid of you, witch!"

"Oh, but you should be," Regina murmured. Now that Emma was secured, she allowed her attention to wander to the Golden workers for a moment. A few of them had stopped their tasks and were watching the forest beyond the stream. One was pointing towards Emma’s general direction, another was shielding his eyes from the setting sun to see better. Regina swore; the commotion had been noticed.

"Listen, we've got to move," she hissed to the girl, who had finally stopped fighting the ropes and was scowling at the trees around her. Her eyes closed when Regina talked, but only to open in a burning glare.

"In case you haven't noticed, I can't," she spit back.

Regina rolled her eyes. "What I mean," she clarified, "is that I’ll give you a choice. Either you walk on your own, away from the river. Or I will drag you. Then we can talk."

"What makes you think that I want to talk to you?"

"For one," Regina said, mimicking Emma's words from almost two years ago, "I doubt you have better things to do." She smiled to herself. "And then there's the fact that I’m not really asking for your permission."

"I hate you." Emma growled, her voice at once venomous and defeated, the realization that Regina was right all too clear.

"I can live with that," Regina sighed, "Now, what do you choose?"

Of course, Emma walked. Although her eyes glanced back quite a few times, she obediently turned around and left the river, all the while swearing and muttering to herself. When she had brought four miles between her and the workmen at the border, Regina ordered her to stop. Emma's chin thrust forward and she took one more step out of pure defiance before she collapsed against a tree, rubbing her shoulder.

"Are you hurt?" Regina asked before she could stop herself. She didn't expect the princess to answer and she was right; Emma just grumbled something under her breath and kept silent.

"Look, I didn't mean for you to fall off a tree," Regina released an exasperated breath. "You brought this one on yourself. I asked you to stop first."

"Actually you didn't," Emma replied, then bit her lip as if she hadn't meant to speak, but the words were already out and more were coming automatically. "You just swept in, out of nowhere, and asked me what the hell I was up to. Just like you always do, insulting me when you feel like it and then vanishing for months. Years. Not that I expect anything else. It's just typical that I would get the mean, neglectful fairy godmother."

"I am not a fairy godmother," Regina declared, focusing on that last point because she didn't know what to make of the rest. She tried to tell herself that it wasn't her job to look after Emma, to talk to her and be there for her, but some tiny part of her related to the girl. Just like Regina knew the face of someone who ran away from home, she recognised the traces of neglect, of a lonely childhood, of the desire to have someone who cared. The Queen within her fought that part, the weakness, that splinter of who Regina had once been, that simply wouldn't allow itself to be overcome completely. Even now, as the full rage of her magic set in, trying to drown the small voice of conscience inside of her, it somehow resisted and when Regina spoke again, her voice lacked the sharpness she had been aiming for. It was almost... soft.

"Pouting will not help you," she said, and Emma murmured "whatever" and crossed her arms but Regina wasn't done yet. "Running away will not help you. Wishing on fairies," she sniffed in disdain, "won't help you. But you know what will?"

"What?" Emma sneered, "You?"

"Saints, no!" Regina exclaimed, "Even if I could, I wouldn't want to. There is enough chaos in my life without a little brat to look after." _So why are you doing it anyway_, the voice in her head whispered, but Regina brushed it off, ignored it like she had before. "No Emma," she said, "Only you can. You have to help yourself."

"I am helping myself. I left the dwarves because I couldn't stand this life any longer and I am out here, looking for a change. That is until you decided to interfere and stop me."

"Because you are not ready to run away. Look at you, a girl with a bow, plenty of anger but no control. You would not last a day out in the real world."

"Don't tell me who I am!" Emma shouted, her suddenly raised voiced telling Regina that she had indeed hit a sore point. "You don't know anything about me."

"So far you have done nothing to prove my assumptions wrong. I see the rage in your eyes, but I also see something else. Insecurity, fear. You don't trust yourself to be enough, and that's why you run, in hopes of simply finding support elsewhere."

"I am not weak," Emma growled.

"Then prove it," Regina snapped. "Prove it by returning to your cabin and braving your life there. Prove it by not becoming a slave to your anger. Prove it by being the bigger person and owning it."

"Fine," Emma exclaimed, throwing her hands up. "Fine, I will go back and I will show you that you're wrong about me. But I tell you what, you should take a piece of your own advice. I swear, your anger issues are worse than mine."

Without waiting for a reply, Emma jumped up, grabbed her backpack and with the accuracy of a huntress, turned in the direction of her cottage and began to march. Regina watched her go with a mixture of worry and relief.

_She's your enemy_, the Queen in her whispered, _stop empowering her. At least we've got her back in secure surroundings_, another part argued back, _she's vital to our revenge. _And then there was the tiny part in her that kept silent, that saw Emma push open the wooden door to the cottage, a determined expression on her face, her steps slow but steady, and it smiled.

That part frightened Regina the most.

* * *

Emma lasted three years before she ran away again.

Regina had started to watch her more frequently once more, the hours stretching out before her now that the war was over. She had signed the peace treaty from the Gold kingdom, the Crown Prince himself travelling to her castle to negotiate the contract. A handsome young man, head full of chestnut curls and noble intentions, so much so that Regina almost changed her mind about the treaty. But her experience reminded her that Dark One's should never be double-crossed, so she swallowed her disgust and set her loopy signature next to Prince Neal's, gagging inwardly at the toothy smile she received in return.

The White kingdom was thereupon quick to follow with a request on their own, bright enough to recognize that without their ally they wouldn't stand a chance against Regina. It was a happy day when the letter came, its tone humble enough to persuade Regina to only demand a generous stretch of land in exchange for peace, a price begrudgingly paid.

Emma remained oblivious to her parents' fall from grace, and to their identities for that matter. The dwarves, for all their uncivilized behaviour, were capable of keeping a secret, a quality that especially Regina knew to value. It wasn't for lack of trying that Emma never learned much about her origin, quite contrary, the girl had become downright obsessed with unveiling the mystery of her parents. She would sit on a tree for ages, absentmindedly tracing the lines of her tattoo, as if she sensed its link to her roots.

"Hey, sprite?" she had called out one day, dangling head-first off a tree, her blonde curls swaying in the breeze. It was a sunny day just on the verge of spring and the forest was slowly coming to life after its hibernation. Fresh leaves unfurled all around Emma, at that point sixteen and blossoming into a respectable young woman herself. Well, apart from her language that was, Regina could still huff about that.

"Emma," she had still answered, only because although her country lay vast and beautiful before her, there were only so many hours she could watch it from her balcony until she got bored. Tomboy princesses made for a much more interesting pastime.

Emma’s mouth had broken into a grin, the fine weather apparently improving her mood considerably. "That's the first time you actually answered when I called you," she'd said smugly, "Don't say you're not warming up to me, after all these years."

"You wish," Regina had growled, causing the branch Emma was hanging on to shake. "What do you want, girl?"

"Eh, nothing much," Emma had simply let go of the tree with the movement, rolling off her shoulder and jumping to her feet in one fluid motion. She was resembling a monkey more with every passing day and Regina snorted as she imagined Snow White's reaction to that.

"Though there's something I wanted to ask you," Emma had added, interrupting Regina's enjoyable thoughts, "Something personal."

"I... don't really do personal," Regina had said reluctantly, though her curiosity was piqued and much to her annoyance, she didn't find it in her to end the conversation just yet, not before Emma has at least asked her question.

"Me neither," Emma had shrugged and Regina arched an eyebrow. Emma hesitated for a second, but then shrugged again and continued despite herself. "But, I guess you kind of helped me, two years ago. You know, when I was running away and you forced me to go back? Turns out you were right..." She trailed off.

"I usually am," Regina had put in, drawing a small smile from Emma. Silence ensued, until Regina cleared her throat. "Your question, dear?" She prompted softly, not wanting to scare Emma off.

The girl had murmured something under her breath, then straightened up. "I've been trying to find myself, like you said. I've been trying to be the person I want to be and I think I'm making progress."

"Do you now?" Regina had smirked, though she couldn't deny that Emma was right. She had watched the girl stand up to Grumpy the other day, declaring that she was sick of doing the dishes for everyone and that the dwarves could well help with the chores, and Regina had almost felt something like pride well up in her.

"Yes I do," Emma had replied, shooting a dirty look at the tree from which Regina's voice was coming. "What I've been meaning to say though, is that while I'm doing my best to become an independent and self-confident person, it is really hard to do so when I don't even know where I'm coming from."

Regina had opened her mouth to protest but Emma had rambled on, not giving her a pause to speak in. "Look, I don't want to meet them and I don't want to throw myself at them in some sort of juvenile attempt at revenge…" - Regina almost choked at that - "…but I do want to know who my parents are and why they gave me up. I feel like that's the one thing that is holding me back from fully growing up. And since you're this mighty sorceress, I thought maybe you might know... something."

The girl had tapered off then, an unusually shy smile spreading on her face. It was almost hopeful and a part in Regina had clenched, a momentary wave of a feeling that she feared to be guilt sweeping through her. Oh, how she wanted to chastise Emma, tell her that she was missing the point, that heritage did not define who you were, nor did it matter much. But the problem was, Emma understood all that, more than Regina would have wanted her to, she simply wanted to know, and who was Regina to talk a sixteen-year-old out of a desire to learn, to grow, to understand?

And so it was with an uncharacteristically low voice that she answered: "Emma," she said, closing her eyes so she didn't have to see the - sickening, she told herself, though her mind swirled with other words, heart-breaking, crushing, disturbing at best - hope in the girl's smile. The Queen in her revolted, sending blasts of anger through her body to block out the other feelings, weak feelings, and useless feelings. Regina let it; seeking comfort in the familiar, she focused on the rage, pressed it into her voice as she spoke again.

"I am not your personal assistant," she snapped, and Emma jumped with the suddenness of change, her eyes first widening with shock, then narrowing with fury of herself.

"Fine! It was just a question, okay?" She spat right back, "It's not like I really expected you to be of any help."

"Glad that we cleared that up," Regina almost screamed to drown out the smaller voices in her mind, the ones that whispered to her to at least apologize for her anger. She hadn't apologized in years and she certainly wouldn't start now. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have better things to do."

"_I have better things to do_," Emma mimicked, her sneering face the last Regina saw before she wiped the mirror blank. Another perfectly fine day destroyed, she thought as she turned away with a growl, her magic dancing in purple flames all over her body, _I should have known better._ But of course Emma's expression stayed with her, but not her sneer; rather the hopeful one, the shy one, the one that fell at Regina's words.

So it wasn't like Emma's escape came as a surprise. In fact, Regina had been waiting for it.


	4. in which a queen makes her appearance

Regina had felt nervous and on the edge for days, the feeling that something major was about to happen lurking in the back of her mind, wearing out her patience and making her even more irritable than usual. Her guards had noticed, her consultants had noticed, and consequently the whole castle was plunged into a collective unease. Regina checked up on Emma at least once a day, the mirrors in her chambers alive with various views of the dwarves' cottage. A shot of the kitchen here, the doorstep with its well-worn threshold there, the staircase, the dining room, and over and over again Emma's chamber.

The girl's seventeenth birthday came, a particularly hot day that persuaded the dwarves to stay at home for once, scattered across the small space. Emma strained to smile, to appear glad about the various presents she got; little trinkets, nothing of real value and nothing that promised the knowledge she was aching for. Regina, seeing right through the façade, readied herself.

While the party had cake and cold tea, Regina got her affairs in order, sorting through journals and notes, signing letters and penning down orders, the anticipation that she would have to leave the castle soon growing in her stomach. When Emma thanked her guardians for the day and prepared to retreat to her room, Regina looked up from where she was rummaging through her potions, her pale hands closing around several vials. The liquids inside were of unremarkable colour, basic ingredients for everyday spells. She stored them away in two saddlebags, already bulging with clothing and a tent... Regina didn't really know why she was packing for an extensive journey, but she complied with her instinct rather than reason. It was Emma's birthday and Regina's magic was alive in her veins and she would be surprised if nothing happened today.

Yet Emma went to bed as she had announced, brushing through her mane of curls with the same ferocious strokes as always, positioning bow and quiver within reaching distance, slipping under her covers still fully clothed and -

_Fully clothed_, Regina thought grimly, giving the girl in the mirror one last look before she sent for one of her ministers.

"I will be gone for a while," she began sharply as soon as the man had entered the room. "Any pressing affairs may be sent to me by mirror," she flicked her fingers and a small compact mirror appeared in the minister's hand. "I trust you to take care of mundane matters on your own. You will not disturb me unnecessarily. You will not let my confidence down."

The man swallowed, clutching the mirror to his chest. "Yes, Your Majesty. I feel honoured, Your Majesty."

Regina waved a hand at the journals and letters piling on her desk and they rose, forming a neat flock at the man's side. "Don't disappoint me," she said and turned around. "Oh, and I will be needing a horse."

She knew she had been trusting the right man when she entered the courtyard to find a stout black mustang waiting for her. Nothing like her usual steeds it was a heavy horse accustomed to strenuous work, perfectly fitted for a longer trip in unsteady terrain, excellent too in its inconspicuous colour and build. After all, Regina was planning to travel incognito.

A swoosh of purple and the saddlebags weighted on the broad back, the horse not even twitching at the unexpected change. Good, Regina couldn't do with a nervous horse, not when animals often felt the magic buzzing beneath her skin. She smirked contentedly as she mounted the horse and pulled out the handheld mirror from one of the bags. As she had expected, Emma's bed was empty. The girl was gone.

Regina found her a minute later, the same large bag on her back as last time she'd run away. Her golden curls gleamed softly in the pale moonlight, the leafage casting moving patterns on her figure as she moved sure-footed through the nightly forest, once more in an infallibly straight line towards the Golden border.

Regina groaned, her enemy’s kingdom the last place she wanted to go. But determination was written all over Emma's face. Determination and something else, an urge, a need to go for real this time. Regina instinctively felt that she wouldn't be able to persuade the girl to turn back again, not when Emma had a goal, a mission. Not when she was newly seventeen years old and stubborn like a mule and Regina had fallen out of her good graces. No, Regina would have to approach matters differently now, and so she sighed, adjusted her plain riding gear, tightened the woollen cape around her, leaned forwards to press a calming hand to the horse's flank - and disappeared.

The sensation of travelling in a plume of violet smoke didn't seem to bother her steed much, luckily, and Regina herself was so accustomed to the lurching feeling in the bottom of her stomach, the sudden shortness of breath and the following seconds of disorientation that she didn't even blink when the castle vanished behind her and the stones beneath the mustang's hooves morphed into loose earth. She simply watched the forest unfold around her, dark greens and darker shadows, the air becoming crisper and at the same time heavy with a million and one scents.

Regina inhaled and exhaled slowly before her eyes settled once more on the mirror. Emma was still following her linear path, now a mere mile away from Regina, who nudged her horse into a light walk. If her estimations were correct, then she would catch up with Emma in about a quarter of an hour.

Fifteen minutes proved to feel much longer than Regina had anticipated, with nothing but the vast forest around her. She couldn't quite decide what put her more on edge, the fact that she had just abandoned her life to follow the daughter of her arch nemesis into the forest – a temporary arrangement of course, just to make sure Emma would be okay on her own – or that she had done so without even questioning her rationale.

Of course, Regina thought as her muscles slowly but surely adjusted to the horse's motions beneath her, there were perfectly good explanations for her behaviour. Emma was vital to the proper implementation of her revenge; that much was certain, and as such she had to be protected. Mirror talks didn't suffice anymore, that era had ended when Emma set the disclosure of the secret about her heritage above reason, above safety, above everything else. Children might be swayed by talking trees and chiding mirrors but young women weren't, so it was only natural Regina came up with a new idea to look after Emma. She would be damned to lose the girl to a greedy commoner who recognized the royal mark on her wrist. No, Regina refused to let go of her precious charge a mere three years before her revenge was finally due.

A sharp snap in front of her ripped Regina out of her thoughts. She subtly checked her mirror, and saw that Emma had climbed a tree, now perching tensely on one of the broader branches. Apparently she'd heard Regina coming, picked up on the steady walk of the horse and deduced it had to be a traveller. One that was up and about in the middle of the night, and Regina was partly relieved to see that the girl wasn't naive enough to wait for a stranger to catch up with her and have a chat. Instead she hovered in the treetop like a predator, bow taut, arrow pointing in the general direction of where Regina's noise was coming from.

A small sliver of a smile passed Regina's features as she stored away the mirror again and sat up straight. Emma's tree came into view and while Regina couldn't see the girl in its crown, she was certain that Emma's eyes were on her, the green narrowing in familiar suspicion. She imagined what Emma would see, a hooded figure in black, a heavily loaded horse, pale hands clutching the reigns... Female hands, slender and clean, too clean, Regina thought and subtly let her magic flood through the skin, staining it in places, hardening it to calluses in others. She could feel Emma's look shift, from her hands to her posture, the rigid poise of a queen - or of a traveller accustomed to the dark. That was what Emma would think, the girl who knew only the forest and its inhabitants. The girl who certainly wondered about the strange figure, but whose curiosity was bound to get the best of her eventually. A small breeze came up, billowing the cloak slightly, and Regina turned it up a notch, just enough to let it blow off the hood from her head, aware that Emma was watching intently. Regina's hair was tied up in a simple braid that was nothing like the intricate hairdos she used to have at the castle, and still she felt Emma's gaze run over her, intrigued, fascinated, as she passed right below the girl's tree. Casting a long gaze over her shoulder for good measure, Regina reached up to pull up the hood once more, smirking silently to herself in the private shadow it provided. A quiet rustle in the leaves to her right proved her expectations right: Emma had abandoned her post and was now following Regina.

The girl was almost maddeningly good at trailing people stealthily. Only the fact that Regina already knew she was lurking in the shadows above her prevented her from discarding the shuffling noises as sounds from the forest itself. Emma was like a squirrel, tiptoeing over the branches with feather light feet, swinging from tree to tree with nothing but a barely audible _swoosh_. However, and Regina thought so with a delighted smile playing on her lips, the advantage was still on her side. She was leading and she was in control, Emma's curiosity was a tool in her hands. She altered her course slightly, heading no longer for the Golden kingdom’s border but more into the direction of her own kingdom, and when Emma didn't even hesitate to adjust likewise, she knew she had the girl.

After a while, the forest began to change around them, the broadleaf trees of Emma's home giving way to tall conifers that made it much harder for Emma to keep aloof from the ground. She fell behind and became less subtle in her attempts to jump from tree to tree, dry bark crumbling beneath her feet, too thin branches snapping under her weight. After a particularly loud crack, Regina deemed it appropriate to turn around.

Her eyes scanned the darkness behind her, the thin lines of pines against the night sky, the rampant undergrowth to their feet, the narrow swath her horse had cut through it all, and the streak of gold that peeked out from behind one of the trees. Emma’s hair caught the moonlight like it always had, certain strands highlighted in glittering yellow while the rest shone with dim silver. Regina rolled her eyes, how foolish of the girl not to cover her curls with a hood. Tightening her own cape around her, she stopped the horse.

"Show yourself," she called out softly. As far as she knew, the woods in this area were deserted but it was better not to take any chances. Besides, she didn't want to scare Emma off.

She needn't have worried about the latter though. After a second of hesitation, Emma dropped out of the tree, rolled off her shoulder fluidly and jumped to her feet, bow at the ready. Her green eyes betrayed nothing, not the uncertainty nor the excitement nor the wonder Regina was sure Emma must be feeling. After all, this was her very first conscious encounter with a person who was not dwarf-sized.

"Who are you?" Emma instead asked calmly, letting her gaze flick over the plain shirt and leather waistcoat Regina was wearing under the cloak. The clothes of a commoner, unfamiliar and itchy against Regina's skin, yet the disguise was worth it when Emma looked up again, no more suspicion than usual in her expression.

"You’re the one who’s following me; who are you?" Regina countered, discreetly deepening her voice with magic to make sure Emma wouldn't recognize her. Not that they had talked that often but Regina preferred to be on the safe side. If she wanted Emma to trust her enough to travel together, she couldn't afford the girl to make the connection to the voice that had so rudely insulted her a couple of days earlier. So when Emma only cocked her head and rose an eyebrow instead of giving her name, Regina actually relented.

"My name is Regina," she said, "Pleased to make your acquaintance..."

Emma eyed her levelly, then let her bow sink. Her shirt was stained brown with dirt and crumbs of bark and she was shivering slightly in the cooling night air, although she seemed to make an effort not to let it show. Regina made a mental note to get her a cloak soon, before she unmounted her horse. Her leather boots hit the forest floor with a muffled thump that sent a brief flash of pain through Regina's back. She really wasn't used to lengthy rides anymore, but if everything went well, she would be walking with Emma soon anyway.

Upon looking up, she noticed that the girl had grown more than she had anticipated and towered at least two inches over her. Her posture was straight despite the heavy backpack and the muscles in her arms pronounced even through the shirt. She looked well-trained and strong in a way that made Regina realize just how much time she herself had spent in a castle, lifting her fingers to give orders the only exercise she’d really had in years.

Emma apparently noticed her physical advantage as well because she kept the tip of her arrow pointed at the forest floor even when Regina approached, clearly not seeing a threat in the woman. Foolish, Regina thought, even as she felt her own mood drop somewhat at the total lack of intimidation the girl showed, and she struggled to put a light smile on her face.

"And to whom do I owe the pleasure?” She asked formally, relishing the small spark of panic in Emma's eyes as she searched for a polite reply and came up short. Unfortunately, the distress didn't last nearly long enough, Emma's guard quickly slipping in place again. She raised her chin slightly.

"I'm Emma. What is your business in this forest?"

"What is yours?" Regina asked back just as plainly. She couldn't afford answering many questions, not if she wanted to avoid lying as far as possible. Secrets still gained more trust than untruths, especially when she allowed Emma to have some on her own.

The girl's gaze flickered but she shrugged almost nonchalantly. "I have business in the north."

"That makes two of us," Regina offered, the information no more a lie than Emma's. The girl's grip around her bow loosened somewhat, and Regina smiled. Talking to Emma resembled a dance, a constant back and forth of words and expressions, the exchange following a rhythm that couldn't be broken. Asking to travel together now would be overstepping and move Emma to retreat, but keeping the conversation light would lead the girl to make the suggestion herself eventually; and so Regina took a step back, trusting that Emma would step forward in turn.

"I dislike travelling at night," she said conversationally, slipping the hood of her cloak back to reveal her face, "But sometimes it can't be helped." Emma's gaze flickered from her hairline across her lashes and cheeks down to her lips and up again, before settling on Regina's eyes. Her mouth pulled up in a smile, and she shrugged.

"At least the moon is almost full." Her fingers played with the string of the bow, her muscles gradually relaxing as she slouched slightly.

Regina bowed her head in agreement, then retreated one step more. Emma's eyes followed her, the hunger for company desperately veiled as she nodded her head towards the horse.

"That's quite a magnificent horse you've got there," she said, "I bet it can walk on for ages."

The unspoken question was almost palpable as it hang in the air between them and Regina could hardly suppress a chuckle.

"It is an honourable steed," she nodded, "Though even mustangs need a break now and then. Especially when they carry both baggage and rider..."

"I see," Emma said. Silence ensued in which she obviously tried her best to appear nonchalant. Regina felt amusement rise in her, as well as mild annoyance. How many more hints could she give?

"Well..." She began after a while, wrecking her brain for more to say, but Emma interrupted before she could come much further.

"You don't suppose we could travel together for today?" She burst out, then caught herself and shrugged once more. "Since we're both heading in the same direction, I mean?"

Feigning pleasant surprise while she inwardly rolled her eyes, Regina looked up. "Gladly. Some company does sound enjoyable."

"Right?" Emma laughed nervously, "I thought so. I mean, what are the odds we met at all in this ginormous forest?"

Regina, suppressing a smirk, nodded. "What are the odds indeed?"

* * *

The sun rose in a burst of colour, bleeding into the night sky with its pink and orange and yellow rays in a remarkable ignorance for subtlety. Already, the temperatures began to climb, promising another hot summer day and Regina was more than glad she would spend it sleeping. Her feet were hurting, an obtrusive throbbing that seemed to stretch from her toes up to her thighs, and she wasn't even carrying a bag. Emma next to her had fallen silent a long time ago, reducing her few words of "watch out, twig" or "damn, I hate those thorny tendrils" to nothing but laboured breathing. It was ridiculous really, the way both of them refused to propose a break, if it was out of fear to appear weak or to slow the other down, Regina wasn’t sure; she just knew she wanted Emma to be the first one to cave.

In the end, neither of them made a conscious decision to stop, it just sort of happened. They came across a clearing, the grass covered in dew where trees still cast their shadows, whereas other patches had been dried by the sun already, and Emma stumbled and then a particular ache pulsed through Regina's leg and even the horse seemed to have trouble keeping its eyes open. A small brook burbled in one corner of the space and Regina led her steed there.

"Time to set up camp," she murmured, her voice raspy with tiredness, and Emma nodded and slumped to the ground. "I trust you have a tent?"

The girl shrugged, "I don't need one. Are you hungry?"

Regina took a small moment to try to ease her pain with magic, but the power wouldn't come, only a weak crackle under her skin. She groaned, and decided to skip the tent too. Setting it up without magic sounded definitely more unattractive than the prospect of sleeping in the sun. She only unclasped her cloak and spread it on the ground beneath her. "I'm good. Sleep is more beneficial to me now."

"You're right." Emma stopped rummaging through her backpack and pulled out a canteen. Nearly emptying it in one go, she collapsed back against her bag. "Should one of us keep watch?"

She yawned at those words and Regina had to suppress one of her own before she shook her head. "This part of the forest is unpopulated. Didn't you know that?"

"I... Right. I just forgot. Good night Regina."

Regina managed a small eye-roll. "More like ‘good day’," she murmured, waiting with her eyes half-closed until Emma's breaths became even and deep, before she too drifted off to sleep.

When Regina woke up again, her head was throbbing with dehydration and small lights were dancing in her vision from the sun. She felt unqueenly and horrible, and in her furious debate about whether this whole debacle was really necessary to get her revenge, she felt her magic rise to meet her. At least something, Regina thought grimly, letting it flow into her head and feet to soothe the pain somewhat before she felt ready to sit up and look for her water bottle.

Emma lay a bit away, curled up in a ball like always, her head resting on the backpack, her fingers twitching against the bowstring. Despite her tense posture, she almost looked peaceful with her hair fanned out around her and her lashes painting dark shadows on her cheeks. Fine, maybe this journey was worth its stresses and strains, Regina thought, if it meant that Snow White would lose that perfect princess of a daughter with her adorable frown and naive trust. _"Should one of us keep watch?"_ Emma had asked, never once considering the possibility that it was Regina she should beware of; Regina who was her actual enemy in the forest.

Except, Regina didn't really feel like an enemy, not to Emma at least. Her eyes wandered to the flower on the girl's wrist, black and clear as ever, and for the first time she found herself thinking that maybe she should have been more specific in her curse. She could have doomed the prince, or maybe Snow herself, sparing the life of a child whose only flaw had been being born to the wrong parents. _No_, Regina told herself, _that wouldn't have worked, wouldn't have hurt Snow White as much, it wouldn’t have been the ultimate revenge_. "_The one you love most_," that was the price Snow was destined to pay, a life for a life and a scar for a scar.

Regina almost forcefully tore her eyes away from the tattoo and strode over to where the horse was dozing by the stream. Her bags stood by its side where Regina had left them that morning, and she quickly took out her bottle and filled it with fresh water. Then, after making sure that Emma was indeed fast asleep, she pulled out the handheld mirror and checked her castle. Matters looked normal, a busy chatter among the maids, strict silence among the guards, piles of paper on her favoured minister's desk, the man himself in agitated conversation with another consultant.

Regina nodded contentedly, then moved on to the White Castle. The uncharming royals were enjoying an afternoon in their garden, Snow White resting in the shadow of a tree, much like her daughter. Other than that, their resemblance hadn't grown over the years, Emma's lithe built and pesky height nothing like the slightly plump shape the White queen had obtained in her inaction. The prince was another matter though, and Regina could see certain parallels there, the ease with which they carried themselves so similar, if Emma wasn't tensely clutching her bow, that is.

Which... she currently did, the tip of her arrow pointed once again at Regina's forehead. She sighed.

"What do you want, Emma?"

"What is that in your hand?" The girl asked right back, her voice still husky with sleep but her eyes bright and awake. "What were you planning to do with that?"

Regina rolled her eyes but Emma's face only tightened with determination. The arrow didn't quiver as she approached Regina.

"It's a mirror, Emma. No need to overreact," Regina finally said, making sure the mirror was clear before she turned it for Emma to see.

"You didn't plan to... I don't know, rob me?" Suspicion was laced into Emma's voice but she did lower her bow.

"Rob you? By hitting you with a mirror? Stop being ridiculous."

"Well, you don't seem to have other weapons."

Regina scoffed, magic tickling in her skin, but all she said was: "And what valuables do you have that I could steal?"

Emma opened her mouth, then closed it again, her brow wrinkling and Regina almost snorted. "Besides," she said, already turning away to her saddlebags, "As soundly as you sleep, I could rob you a thousand times without you even noticing. Hungry?" She held up a piece of bread to Emma who stared at her with open mouth.

"I... Hey!" She complained, "You wouldn't be able to- "

"Yes I would," Regina interrupted impatiently, "but I didn't, which should convince you that I am reasonably trustworthy. Now, I forgive you for pointing an arrow at me, _again_, and you should drop the matter so we can have breakfast. Or rather, dinner."

It was true, the sun had passed its peak already and only the small brook next to them stopped the heat from being completely overwhelming. Small beads of sweat had formed on Emma's brow and Regina's shirt was sticking to her back as she leaned down to take out dried fruits and strips of meat from her bags. The forest around them was unnaturally calm, even the animals sticking to their dens, and Regina found herself dreading the inevitable departure. It was essentially pointless as neither she nor Emma really had anywhere to be, but saying so would blow her cover, and waiting for Emma to admit it, was a hopeless undertaking.

Sure enough, they had barely finished their sparse meal before the girl rose to her feet with only the slightest trace of discomfort in her expression. If her back was hurting as much as Regina's did, she excelled at hiding it.

"So Regina," she said, clearly aiming to sound bold and confident in spite of the lingering awkwardness in her voice about addressing Regina for the first time, "Ready to hit the road again?"

"Are you?" Regina asked back, ignoring the pain that blossomed in her legs as she stood up. Her magic didn't hold it at bay for long and she could practically feel the blisters growing under her feet, her smooth skin not used to the exertions of a hike anymore. She sighed and followed Emma to the horse. This would be a hard journey.

* * *

It took Emma three days to gather the courage to begin asking questions. Three days of tense silence in which Regina carefully navigated around villages and Emma followed her with the naiveté of a child, or maybe the desperation of a lost girl with no other option. In truth, Regina was relieved that Emma stayed at her side without discussions; the minute the girl decided to leave her company was the minute Regina would have to come up with another plan to protect her. Using magic to create disguises and fake personas was tedious work, one that could easily be avoided if only she managed to gain Emma's trust instead of her suspicion.

Regina was well aware of the curious glimmer that lingered in Emma's green eyes, ever present and growing by the second. So far, the girl's stubbornness, the discomfort about being the first to break the silence, had spared Regina from being subjected to critical inquiries, but this night marked a turning point.

Regina had felt it since they decamped, the air between them thicker than usual; Emma's constant impulse to speak almost palpable. The horse carried her backpack as well, had been for a while now. Regina had hoped it would gain her some plus points, buy her some more days until the inevitable questioning would start. Instead, it had granted Emma enough breath to talk; her young body accustomed to walking in the woods all day long she barely seemed to feel the strain of the journey. Regina eyed her contemptuously as she fiddled with her hair, absentmindedly braiding the ends of the golden tresses, tattoo pitch black even in the reddish rays of the setting sun. Then, without a warning, Emma looked up, catching Regina's gaze with her own.

"Why aren't you riding?"

The question, albeit a predictable one, caught Regina slightly off guard. She was prepared to lie, yet Emma's eyes bored into hers with an intensity that suggested she wouldn't get away with it. Never before had Regina been exposed to a look like that, green and steely and challenging, and she wondered how she had never noticed this particular quality about Emma. Regina blinked, momentarily breaking eye contact, just long enough to conjure up a cool smile.

"Funny that you ask, since you're certainly benefiting from it."

She had concocted the answer beforehand, had thought it to be the optimal reply, not revealing anything about her, yet forcing Emma to retreat if she didn't want to risk losing Regina’s generosity. Indeed, the girl cast down her eyes and a smug smirk began to form on Regina's lips, abruptly falling away when Emma looked up again, the fire in her eyes restored instead of diminished.

"You don't strike me as the social type though."

"Excuse me?"

Regina apparently sounded indignant enough for Emma to shy away a fracture, faint blotches of pink appearing on her cheeks.

"I mean, thank you, I guess," she mumbled, frowning to herself as she said those, Regina could only imagine, hated words. Emma, desperately independent Emma, would hate to acknowledge she owed anything to anyone, especially a stranger. Regina smirked, the girl's former rudeness almost forgotten, almost. Instead of continuing with an apology, the second term Regina strongly suspected Emma would hate, the girl pouted fervently and spoke up: "I'm just saying, why don't you take your horse and leave? You would be much faster, skip company you don't want, _and_ wouldn't have to walk your feet bloody."

"I am surprised," Regina retorted dryly, although she really was. She hadn't expected Emma to work up such an abundance of reasons, much less notice them in the first place. It was true that Regina's feet had taken on a precarious condition, red and swollen they throbbed in her boots, sending flashes of pain through her body no matter how often she tried to soothe the ache with her magic. It was also true that she had played with the idea of just abandoning Emma to her fate, maybe return to mirror watching from the comforts of her castle. The thought had occurred multiple times, mostly in the mornings, when she woke up to stiff muscles and screaming pain, and the day's trip was already looming in the near future.

Yet she had resisted the temptation of her silk covers and luxury mattress at home, had replaced the mirror image with one of Snow White's castle, telling herself time and time again that her pain would be worth it in the end. The dwarves had apparently reported Emma’s absence to their queen by now, for the kingdom was in turmoil. Snow, alternating between crying fits and frenzied outbursts of fury that eerily resembled Regina’s during her worst years, had sent out the army; search parties littered the woods around the dwarves’ cottage and beyond; and with every negative report that came back, the Whites sank deeper into desperation, and Regina rejoiced. Even if she spent the next _three years_ travelling, for a lifetime of revenge, it was a price she would pay willingly.

And then, when Emma woke up too, always a mere second after Regina decided to approach her, as if she had an inner sensor that pinged every time someone came too close, the last dregs of Regina’s doubts faded away like dew in the morning sun. Why should she abandon the girl, if it was so much fun to misguide her deeper into the woods where her parents would never find her?

"Surprised about what?" Emma asked now, her voice so deliciously distressed although she tried to keep it even. Regina smiled, banishing her short-lived admiration for the unexpected attentiveness into the back of her mind.

"Surprised that you seem so intent on getting rid of me," she replied smoothly, savouring the mixture of shock and annoyance in Emma's green eyes.

"I'm not," the girl argued, the red rising in her cheeks, "but you have to admit that it's strange..."

"Strange to prefer company over solitude?" Regina chipped in, careful to keep the tone objective, non-committal, not quite lying, never completely lying. Emma's brow still furrowed, the crease between her eyebrows deepening.

"Well, it's not like you make full use of that company. We don't even talk."

"I didn't realize you were seeking conversation," Regina said, bemused though she tried to hide it. "After all, you’ve stayed pretty quiet yourself."

Just like that, the seemingly impossible feat was done; Emma gawked, speechless and burning crimson, her ever-sharp tongue still for once. Regina, feeling absurdly pleased with herself, saw it fit to wink at the stunned girl, then sped up her pace until she caught up with the mustang. She was almost certain that Emma needed some space to recover.

To her annoyance, but also her thrill – an underlying excitement that pulsed through her every time the girl defied her expectations - Emma was back at it before dusk had completely fallen. Shadows trailed behind her like the cloak she still didn't have as she closed up to Regina and drew a deep breath.

"So how does this work?" She said, one hand rubbing at her tattooed wrist. A nervous habit, Regina had noticed, one that made it easy to read the girl even though she was a master at keeping her voice even. "Do we exchange an eye for an eye, so to say?"

"How barbaric," Regina couldn't resist putting in, earning her a frown from Emma. "You should learn to express yourself properly."

"Why do you care?" Emma immediately shot back, and again Regina felt a vague exhilaration flash through her. She almost began to like Emma's temper. As pesky as it could be, this steady defiance against the norms at any rate provided a nice contrast to little eager-to-please Snow White in her decaying kingdom.

So instead of chiding Emma further, Regina actually gave in, not going so far as to bow her head to the girl but at least nodding curtly. "If by ‘eyes’ you mean information then yes, conversation usually consists of an exchange."

Emma snorted, but a smile was tugging at the corners of her mouth. It made her look younger, more like the girl she essentially was, and Regina had to avert her eyes before her own lips could copy the expression.


	5. in which a princess needs help

They came across their first village a week after. Regina hated to admit it but it had been her fault, her own carelessness that had led to Emma discovering the swirling smoke from a scatter of houses in the distance. It was another hot day, the conifers hardly providing enough shadow for Regina to lay down in, her aching legs propped up against a trunk. Emma, however, appeared restless; since she had traded the information of her climbing skills for Regina's admission that she indeed came from a noble house, just like her way of speaking suggested, the girl had hardly made a break. She scaled trees whenever Regina paused, claiming to want to improve her talent.

"I come from a deciduous wood, the trees are easier to climb there" she had shared with Regina, who hadn't gathered new information so far but was content with the game nonetheless, the way Emma began to trust her with more and more details of her life.

"I come from this kingdom," Regina had replied, "I was only travelling through White."

"We're no longer in White?" Emma had asked before she could stop herself, but Regina pretended to not have noticed her blunder.

"Indeed. White has never suited me, I much more prefer those deeper woods that are typical for the Black kingdom. White appears to be so idyllic with its flowery meadows and bright green clearings but if you search more closely you'll find it's quite rotten in its core. No, I prefer this; a dark forest for a dark kingdom, no pretensions, no secrets."

Emma had nodded absentmindedly, her eyes a green curtain that hid a racing mind. Regina would bet the dwarves had warned her of leaving her parents' kingdom, had advised her to be wary about Black in particular. But if the news had scared her, the girl veiled her fear well, her voice non-committal when she asked: "And what is your opinion of the Gold kingdom?"

Regina had snorted then, remembering the carefully dishevelled curls of the Crown Prince, his slimy grin when she signed the peace treaty, his boyish charm lost on her. "Gold is a joke, but they have a strong army," she said, avoiding the curious glance Emma sent her way. "My turn."

Yes, they had fallen into an easy back and forth of questions and answers and occasional irrelevances and although Emma still slept with her bow in her hands, and Regina still awoke with burning muscles and blistered feet, they were both slowly getting used to their shared journey. It was this accustoming and building trust that made Regina careless.

A surprised cry came from the treetops, followed by a shower of needles and small twigs as Emma shook the pine violently on her way down. Regina growled, shielding her face with her hands. "Emma!"

The girl's pale face peeked out from behind the trunk, grinning widely in spite of the death glare directed at her. "Regina," she said, slightly out of breath, "you won't believe what I just saw!"

"Test me," Regina replied, brushing the dirt off her trousers. They were by no means black anymore, but littered with numerous brown stains from days in the woods. Her shirt was grimy and plastered to her back, her waistcoat and cloak long discarded of in the lingering heat of the afternoon. At least Regina's clothes were still intact, in contrast to Emma's trousers that sported holes and snags in various places. Not that the girl cared, even now Regina could hear the tearing sound of cloth ripping as Emma slid down the last metres of tree bark and landed on her feet with a muffled thud.

"Smoke!" She declared proudly, not even pausing to inspect the scratch her speedy descent had earned her. Regina on the other hand frowned at the wound, clearly visible through the hole that sat indecently high up Emma's thigh, the fresh red of bruised flesh distracting her momentarily from Emma's news.

"You ought to care more for your clothes."

"Eh," Emma rolled her eyes, "Do you hear what I'm saying? Smoke means people - there's a village, just west from us!"

Realisation hit Regina. She sat up straight, black patches shortly dancing in front of her eyes from the quick movement. She didn't care, didn't even notice as she fought against the curses that threatened to spill out of her mouth at the realization that she, Regina Mills, had made a mistake. _Stupid, stupid, stupid_, it sang through her head, the word clinging to the map she quickly pictured from her memory, slithering through the endless forest in all its uninhabited glory and then sticking to the one village she had overlooked. _Damn._

Acutely aware of Emma's expectant eyes on her, Regina made an effort to appear glad. Her muscles tensed around the forced smile, a thousand worries on her mind. What if Emma decided she wanted to stay at the village? Would it be very suspicious if Regina too hung around? What if one of the commoners recognized Regina as their Queen? She didn't have all ingredients for a disguise potion, not to mention that she wasn't ready to reveal her magic to Emma just yet. What if somebody recognized Emma? Nobody in all the realms had seen her since she was an infant, but her golden curls and the Lyon flower mark were bound to give away her identity as the White princess.

Regina's smile faltered but the girl's attention was already elsewhere; she had taken over the horse's reigns and was coaxing it to change direction towards where she had seen the smoke.

"Come on," she whispered, so much softer than her usual voice, "let's get you some company. I'm sure there are other horses at the village." Apparently the quirk to talk to animals ran in the family, but Regina couldn't even find it in her to scoff, too occupied as she was with seeking an excuse not to approach the houses.

"Emma," she said quietly when the girl got ready to go and Regina still sat on the forest floor, littered with needles. Emma turned around, almost cheerfully. It was a new look on her, that wide smile, an excited glint in her eyes, everything about her bouncing and energetic. Like this, she resembled her parents more than ever, the same curve in her lips, the same dimples flashing on her cheeks. A surge of anger swept through Regina, the first in days, conferring a sharper edge to her next words than planned.

"We won't go to that village." That was not what Regina had wanted to say, not at all. She had meant to persuade Emma slowly, carefully, that the village wasn't a safe place for neither of them; that a visit there wasn't worth the risk. She had wanted to provide a harmless explanation, women travelling alone, the extents some people were willing to go to hurt other, seemingly weaker people, maybe even invent a bad reputation for this village in particular. Instead her temper had gotten the best of her and of course Emma was glaring at her in response. Orders had never worked well on her and Regina of all people should have known better.

"And why is that?" Emma asked, just like Regina knew she would.

"Because," Regina began, her anger already ebbing away at the soothing sight of the fiery Emma she liked, or at least tolerated. "Village people can be..."

"What, dangerous? I'm not afraid." Emma clutched her bow tighter, daring Regina to contradict her.

"Of course you're not," Regina sighed, feeling reminded of the last time she was trying to talk Emma out of meeting people. As much as the girl had changed, some trigger points would always remain. But if the catalyst stayed the same, maybe so did the solution. How had she convinced Emma to listen to her back then? Magic, she remembered, but she didn't have that option now; and telling the truth, or at least some edited version of it.

Regina grimaced, she couldn't believe she was actually doing that. But Emma's green eyes bore into hers, demanding, deserving to get an explanation, and not only because Regina was sure the girl would run off on her own if she dug her heels in now. So she took a deep breath, stared right into Emma's eyes and told the truth;

"You may not be afraid, but I am."

Emma actually dropped her bow alongside with her jaw. "Wait, what?" She whispered, all trace of defiance gone. She almost sounded reverent.

"Don't look at me like that," Regina snapped, feeling awfully vulnerable although she had, in principle, won this round. "I have never claimed to be fearless."

"Yeah, but..." Emma trailed off, still watching Regina with a fascination that made the Queen crawl with discomfort. "Why?"

"Nothing of your concern," Regina murmured, half-regretting her admission already. Emma, bending down to pick up her bow again, gave her a disbelieving look.

"Seriously? You drop a bomb like that and now refuse to talk about it? Rude, Regina."

And maybe the lurking challenge in Emma’s eyes was irresistible, or maybe Regina was on a roll with confessing, whatever the reason, she arched an eyebrow at the girl. "You know the rules: a secret for a secret."

Emma considered the offer for about a second, before she plonked herself down on the forest floor next to Regina. "Spill."

Taking a deep breath, Regina leaned back again, avoiding Emma's lie-detecting eyes as far as possible. She would tell the truth, partly, but she couldn't explain Emma's role in the scheme, not yet. She would have to focus on the other reasons.

"I am sure you remember that my family was blue-blood," she began, waiting for Emma to nod before she continued: "Now, titles come with a certain fame, a reputation, either a good one or a bad one, depending on what you do, how you treat the people, how you handle your position."

Again, Emma nodded: "Makes sense. And let me guess, you don't have the best reputation?"

"The worst," Regina said gravely, remembering the way peasants had shied away from her, back in the old days when she was still Queen of White, the Black kingdom non-existent until she had been exiled, sent away to fend for her own. She had built her country from scratch, given a name and an identity to the territories in the north. For a short while she had been celebrated, the saviour who unified the folks, who offered protection and welfare in exchange for loyalty.

Of course Snow White had never acknowledged the new realm, had denied its existence in the years prior to the wars, depriving Regina of her title as Queen. She had poisoned her own people, and via travellers even managed to infiltrate Regina's own kingdom with myths of the Evil Queen, who had already almost destroyed one kingdom, and who wouldn't hesitate to bestow the same fate on any new land she seized. Villagers looked at her with fear again, the very people who had cheered for their queen a year before, huddling together in groups, heads bent, the scent of hatred penetrating the air. Gossip was a weapon that Snow knew to wield masterfully, always striking where it hurt Regina most, always taking the one thing that was precious to her. She shouldn't have been surprised that Regina would eventually counter to do the same to her.

"Regina?" Emma's voice interrupted her thoughts, unusually mild, almost cautious. "Are you okay?"

Regina looked up, startled to see Emma leaning over her, curls swaying softly in the breeze. Her eyes were like deep ponds, clear and open for about a millisecond before the familiar guard slipped back into place, a steely quality mixing into the green as Regina cleared her throat. "Of course I am."

"So," Emma said, moving back hurriedly, her lashes painting shadows on her cheekbone as she cast her eyes down, "That reputation... Did you earn it? Like, their hatred, is it..." She trailed off.

"Is it justified?" Regina finished the sentence for her, a bitter tang to her words though she tried to suppress it. After all, she had done dark deeds, had murdered people without a qualm, had inflicted pain almost like a pastime. She had doomed hundreds of lives and hadn't paid them a second thought, the name of revenge like a carte blanche for anything in her mind. But, she had also saved people, had given outcasts a home in her kingdom; she had spared her people from many a fight even in the bloodiest phases of the war, a war she hadn't really wanted nor enjoyed. She had changed, from a broken young woman whose edges stuck out and hurt people arbitrarily, into a mature monster who knew to sharpen her pain into a single dagger, that would forever be pointed at Snow White.

Not that she was ready to share any of those thoughts with Emma. "Don't you think I might have a biased view on that?" She therefore asked the girl, who seemed to realize she had gone too far.

"Yeah, right," she grimaced, and turned away, "So, no villages for you, got it." Silence ensued, during which Emma was chewing her lip and Regina tried to gauge the effect her words had on the girl.

"But," Emma eventually ventured, "I could still go and restock our provisions?" Regina almost swore out loud.

"Not so fast," she said quickly, earning her a surprised glance from the girl, "You still owe me a secret."

Emma laughed. "Are you afraid I'd bail? Let you stay here while I enter the village and then make a run for it?"

Partly yes, Regina thought to herself, not yet she'd ever admit so to Emma. Also, she just really wanted to save the girl's skin, literally, the Lyon flower on Emma's wrist winking up at her.

"Don't be ridiculous," she said out loud, "I'm just making sure you don't cheat your way out of an answer."

Emma put an affronted hand to her chest, hiding the tattoo from view, but she was still smiling. "Fair. Shoot, then, I have someplace to be."

Regina thought for a moment, unsure what questions were okay to ask and which would be overstepping the invisible boundaries still taut between them. Emma's own question had teased those borders, like a knife held to a string, a pushed handle, the door to intimacy almost ajar. Wouldn't it be just fair if Regina too pressed a little harder, stepped a bit closer? Emma was watching her expectantly, eyes guarded but clear, non-judgmental as they passed over the smudges of dirt on Regina's cheeks, the sweat making her hair curl, the pieces of leaves and twigs tangled in her dark braid. It was the same look Emma had given her before the admission, the girl utterly unperturbed by Regina's implied dark side.

"Why aren't you afraid of me?" Regina whispered, more to herself than her companion, but of course Emma's sharp ears picked up on it. She laughed shortly, a breathless sound that resembled the rustling of leaves.

"Would you prefer me to be?"

"I don't know," Regina frowned, "I seem to have lost a good deal of my intimidating qualities since I admitted my weakness."

"What, you mean like they existed in the first place?" Emma teased, sticking out her tongue when Regina shot her a withering look, before growing sober. "No, but seriously, at least now I know what I'm at. Don't you think that everyone has dark sides, but the most dangerous are those who claim they don't?"

_Like Snow White_, Regina thought and nodded cautiously, imagining her arch nemesis with her mighty look, justifying dark deeds with the greater good, a sweet smile hiding a hypocritical mind.

"You might be right," Regina said, causing Emma to roll her eyes.

"You don't have to sound so surprised, you know..."

"Whatever," Regina snorted and Emma actually shoved her, causing Regina to grunt in surprise and the girl to freeze and then flush in embarrassment. Her hands flew to her bow, fiddling with the string as she avoided Regina's eyes. The Queen, feeling strangely out of place herself, cleared her throat and continued as if the scenario hadn't happened.

"Well Emma," she said, and although she had planned to ask the girl about her own dark sides, in that half-teasing and half-serious manner they had perfected over their time of travelling together, all that came out was: "What a deep thought for someone your age." Which apparently was the wrong thing to say.

Emma's eyebrows shot up, her cheeks paling in the matter of seconds, the flush replaced by angry white. "Excuse me?" Instead of the string her fingers were now clutching the bow itself.

Regina sat up. "Emma, I meant it like..." _Like a compliment_ she had wanted to say, immediately rounding upon herself for the idiotic idea. The Evil Queen, flattering little girls who also happened to be her arch enemy's offspring, the whole concept was ridiculous, and so she trailed off, thus only fuelling Emma's anger.

"Like what?" She asked sharply and Regina sat up with a sigh and no idea how to save this situation.

She hesitated but every second ticking by was deepening the frown on Emma's face, was thinning the line of her lips, was tightening her grip around the bow. "…like a question," Regina eventually said, before Emma would explode, "I mean, how old are you?"

"How old are _you_?" Emma asked right back, her voice so much cooler than mere minutes ago. Regina barely suppressed an eye roll.

"Twenty-eight," she answered truthfully, only keeping the _'for seventeen years already'_ to herself. Emma's reaction annoyed her, how much the girl bothered with trifling matters, in a way so much like her mother. Snow White was always going on about proper etiquette here and the correct curtsy there, but then apparently ignoring the fact that her new stepmother was merely seven years older than herself.

"Since you don't seem inclined to answer," Regina said, determined to exorcise the hypocritical behaviour, "I will just guess your age then."

"I'm seventeen," Emma spat out, before Regina could say a number, and her hands quivered around her bow.

Regina sighed. "Did my question upset you?"

Emma had jumped up and was now glaring down at her, tall and trembling in her rage. "Your question not so much as its implication," she ground out, "What's wrong with seventeen?"

"Shouldn't you be asking yourself?" Regina said, "Since it's you who's making such a fuss of it."

"Oh, shut up," Emma snarled and Regina understood, too late, that she had gone too far, that her behaviour seemed to have triggered negative memories in Emma. "You don't get to be so obnoxious over eleven pitiful years, you don't even know me."

"Emma..." Regina began but Emma cut her off.

"Don't _‘Emma’_ me. In fact, is my age the reason why you're obviously trying to keep me from going to that village? Do you think I can't handle a few people? Don't think I don't see what you're doing, dragging out this stupid conversation with stupid questions."

"Fine," Regina said, feeling the anger rise in her at Emma’s ignorance. It was out of pure spite that she continued, a dangerous reason to enter a fight but the Queen was awake and Regina was tired of arguing with a pesky teenager. "I won't say anymore. You can go to your village then if you're so mature, but don't expect me to wait for you."

Emma actually had the decency to look slightly troubled by the warning but her voice remained gruff: "So what. I don't need you anyway." She jumped up and left without another glance back.

Regina's fury should have evaporated the moment the girl's blond head was out of sight, but instead she clung to it. The familiar feeling of wrath and self-righteousness was such a delicious tingle in her blood, reflating the magic that had flowed sluggishly during the past days of disuse. Wisps of purple smoke danced across her skin, long slender tendrils that filled the air around her with the distinct scent of power. Regina inhaled deeply, letting the sensation wash over her. After days of suppressing her instincts, it felt freeing to just breathe without worrying about Emma noticing the crackle in her fingertips. For a moment, Regina allowed herself to play with the thought of leaving the girl to her fate and return to her usual life. Of course, that moment passed and something like guilt caught up with her again. In spite of herself, in spite of her reputation and her history and her nature, Regina felt responsible for the princess she herself had doomed to a life of questions and hardships. Emma setting out to find her parents was, in a way, Regina's doing and as much as the queen didn't want to care, her stomach still lurched at the thought of Emma alone in that village. So, with a sigh deeper than a mountain lake, Regina stood up and retrieved the mirror from her saddlebags.

The spell came easy to her, the magic fuelled by her anger, her exasperation, and the mirrors blank surface transformed into a picture in a rush of colour. Emma's bobbing head came into view, her furious face, blinking eyes. _Is she crying?_ Regina wondered, as the girl raised a hand to wipe her cheeks with violent gestures. But no, her palm came away dry, her face only stained with dirt, grey patches on flaming red skin. Anger had always brought the colour to Emma's usually pale skin, as a child when the dwarves irritated her, and now as a teenager because of Regina, who hated to be put in the same list with spoilt princesses and pygmy vermin.

A wave of her hand and the mirror's view changed to one from above. Emma was rapidly approaching the village, that scatter of cottages and run-down barns, a bustling market square at its centre. Merchants announced their goods, farmers bargained over livestock, here and there a hunter had laid out skinned animals and fresh meat. The noise was unfamiliar after a lifetime in the forest and Regina saw Emma slow and come to a halt mere metres away from the first houses, her sharp ears entirely unaccustomed to the chatter of so many people. Her eyes darted from left to right and then up and in a blink she had scaled a tree, her bruised skin scraping against the bark without her even noticing the sting. She took in the village and Regina watched her mind race, watched her courage dwindle and her scepticism arise. Emma squinted, wrinkled her nose, scratched at her tattoo. And then she leaned forward on her branch, lay down on it, and just stayed there, observing the masses beneath her.

Regina sighed, half-relieved that Emma, even in her furious state, wasn't dumb enough to just march into the crowds, announcing her alleged fearlessness. As the girl watched, pressed like a second shadow to the tree, the posture so similar to the one all those years ago at the lake, Regina had an idea how she could still protect her without following her to the village.

"Emma," she whispered through the mirror, assuming her old sprite voice. Emma's muscles tensed, she had clearly heard Regina even if she didn't reply. Regina hesitated, just now remembering the argument her mirror persona had with Emma some weeks before she had run away. Emma's crestfallen expression when Regina had denied her help in finding her parents was still imprinted on her retina and she cursed herself for not reacting more sensitively. Reaching out for Emma had just become considerably harder, but she had to try.

"Emma," she whispered again, a rustle in the needles surrounding Emma, a shudder in the bark, enough to cut deep frowning lines into the girl's brow, her lips going almost white as she pressed them into a thin line. Still no answer.

"Do you remember what I told you about trusting in yourself?" Regina still ventured, softly, somehow, foolishly hoping Emma would listen to her then. No such luck.

"Why won't everybody stop patronizing me?" Emma exclaimed, exasperated and loud enough to raise a few startled heads in the crowd beneath. Emma shrunk into the tree, pressing herself close enough to the branch that she could be mistaken for a bump in the wood. She shot the bark under her hands a withering look, one that Regina expected was directed at her. "I can look after myself, sprite."

"Which is why you're perching on a tree at the outskirts of a village?" Regina asked, raising a hand invisible for Emma before the girl could protest and added: "Not that it concerns me."

"Exactly," Emma growled, "I don't see a reason for you to be here."

"Well, luckily I don't care for your opinion," Regina lied, changing tactics. "So here I am, watching, whether you care or not. Show me I'm wrong about you not being to handle this and I'll go, sound fair?"

"Not at all," Emma frowned, "Have I ever told you, I hate you?"

"Most times we've talked."

"Well," the girl sighed and it was possible that a sliver of relief passed over her face as she sat up, "Then I guess I have nothing to lose. Watch closely, and no cheating." And with that said, she slipped from her tree and faced the houses.

Emma's first steps in the crowds were cautious, tentative like a child learning to walk, and she was clutching her bow like a crutch. However, it took only one man bumping into her from behind, one cry of "Oi, watch where yer goin' lass" for her to straighten up, throw said man a burning glare and then strut down the street towards the market place like she owned it.

It was a small village, more like a litter of houses that seemed to have landed in one place by chance, randomly protruding from the normal forest floor like strange fungi. The stone walls were covered in vines, the forest extending its tendrils in an attempt to reclaim his rightful territory, and many a cottage featured holes in their roofs where a storm had thrown heavy branches at the frail trusses. Despite the hardships, the population appeared to have prospered; there was at least a hundred people romping about the small space in the middle of the village, and Emma was now one of them.

Her bow hung loosely over her shoulders, the backpack left behind on the tree, she strolled along the booths, inspecting the presented goods with poorly concealed excitement. A display of furs made her eyes shine, rows and rows of vegetables caused a delighted lip bite and when she spotted an array of weapons, Regina was sure she heard a squeal.

"Emma," Regina whispered warningly when the girl wormed her way through the non-existent gap between a farmer couple, pricking the woman's stomach with the tip of her bow without apologizing, and pushed another man aside to look at the gleaming metal of swords and knives. Three people were already staring at her in dismay and Emma didn't even notice, her hand moving to touch a small knife with a blade that gleamed golden as it reflected her curls.

"Emma," Regina whispered again, urgently, and the girl frowned but it was too late.

"Han's off girl, this ain't no knife for playin' around," the weapons dealer spoke up, one meaty hand coming from behind the cart to slap Emma's fingers away before they could touch the metal. Emma's head snapped up, and Regina released a flood of curse words the dwarves would have been proud of; Emma's cheeks were red with fury and her glare was on death level. This wouldn't end well.

"Emma, turn away and go. Now," Regina commanded, the futile attempt brushed off by Emma who only looked angrier still.

"Excuse you," she said loudly, causing several heads to turn her way. Regina groaned. "Do I look like I want to play around?"

"Depen's on what game," the merchant replied, earning a laugh from the rapidly gathering audience. "All I'm sayin' is that a lass like yerself ain't fit to wield a weapon. Not my knife and not the bow yer carryin'. Ye should give it to me before ye hurt yerself."

"Don't you dare touch my bow," Emma hissed, drawing the weapon in one fluid motion and pointing the tip of an arrow at the man's throat. The crowd gasped, more and more people were coming to a halt to witness the scene. Regina's mind was racing, halves of spells fluttering over her tongue as she frantically searched for a way to get Emma out of the situation.

Meanwhile, the dealer had risen too, towering over Emma as he mustered her. "Yer certainly somethin', lass. Tell ye what, the knife for a lock of yer hair."

"What?" A mixture of disgust and confusion washed over Emma's face, while Regina's fists clenched with the effort to suppress her own urge of throwing a fireball at the man. Oblivious to the doubled danger his life was in, the guy laughed and reached for Emma's curls. A feral growl escaped Regina and her hand was heating up with a flame, but Emma was faster. She ducked and twisted away from the fingers, slicing the tip of her arrow through the man's arms as she went, a slash deep enough to draw blood.

A collective gasp came from the crowd as he howled and, with surprising speed for a man his size, turned around to grab Emma's shoulder with his unscathed arm, swirling her around in a rough motion. Emma's slender form slammed into the wooden cart, a wince tumbling from her lips as half a dozen knife-tips pierced her in the back. "Ye will pay for this," the man growled, yanking Emma up by her hair.

The moment Emma screamed was the moment Regina exploded. Magic surged through the mirror, anger in its most potent form, strong enough to make the glass shiver and shatter in a couple of places. It blew over the merchant, hit him square in the chest and sent him flying, into the crowd that shrieked and dispersed as the force hit them too, rushed mercilessly over them all, sparing solely Emma, who had fallen to her knees and was watching the scene breathlessly.

"Witch!" Came the cry from one of the other merchants, who was holding on to his cart as it threatened to tip over, and the word echoed through the village, carried from mouth to mouth. Regina shivered, the stream of magic breaking as fast as it had erupted. She was used to the insult, in fact there had been a time when she had taken great pride in the title, and neither did she regret what she had done. Anger still pulsed through her when she looked at the dealer, lying on his back in the square, breathing hard from the effects of the magic that had hit him worst of all; anger still shook her fingertips when she regarded the villagers; the crowd of watchers who hadn't intercepted, hadn't spoken up, had even enjoyed how Emma had been treated. No Regina didn't regret being the witch, but Emma looked shaken, a nervous figure in the middle of it all. She needed to get the girl out of there before the people noticed that Emma was just as surprised by the magic as they were.

"Time to go, Emma," Regina murmured, nudging the girl's shoulder with a small blow of wind. Dazed, Emma stood up, throwing one last glance at the destroyed market square, the deep furrows that Regina's magic had left in the paving, then turned around and fled in the opposite direction.

Regina found her moments later, curled up on a tree, gazing into the distance. Her shirt was bloody in the back but she didn't seem to care.

"Hey," Regina said, a rustle in the needles, a shudder in the bark, and Emma shuddered too, though she tried to suppress it as she bit down on her lip.

"Have you come to gloat?" She asked roughly, crossing her arms over her chest. "Because I'm not in the mood for your superiority."

"I don't expect a ‘thank you’, if that is what you mean." Emma glared but her fingers twitched up to rub her scalp nonetheless. "Does it hurt?"

"Not as much as knowing that I failed," Emma murmured, suddenly miserable and an unfamiliar ache pulsed through Regina. An ache for something like a hug, something like comfort, something like at least being there for Emma in her real form. But the girl must never know that Regina the traveller was the same being as her childhood sprite.

"It's not your fault the world is a mess," she said, the words coming out harshly but Emma still managed a smiled. It felt very strange not to blame the girl for once and Regina's heart beat irregularly where she sat on her clearing, speaking into the mirror. "At least you didn't trip on your great exit," she joked and Emma's face squeezed into a grimace; "Hallelujah!"

The girls lips then widened into a grin. "And at least I got this." she held up the small knife she had investigated at the stall. Regina breathed out a laugh, imagining Snow White's face if she learned that additional to a rascal, her princess had now become a thief. Emma nodded contentedly. "This will teach him a lesson."


	6. in which a queen leads the way

"What will you do now?" Regina asked into the mirror much later, Emma not having moved from her tree. She had watched the village, a grim expression in her eyes at the scorched marks on the houses beneath, the remnants of Regina's spell a reminder to everyone passing by. The fear hadn't yet faded, the tension weaving like ivy through the streets, but one after another, the men and women had turned away from the scene and gone on with their habitual chores. Emma had looked relieved at that, relieved that nobody seemed to want to start a search party looking for the witch; relieved and a little gleeful too, that nobody was stopping to help the merchant, just like nobody had helped Emma.

The girl looked up, tired. "Sprite, you're still here?"

"You didn't complete your quest to get rid of me," Regina felt obliged to point out, even as Emma flinched, a shadow of anger still lingering in the grim lines around her mouth.

"True."

"Oh come on, stop sulking. Get moving instead." So hypocritical, when in truth, Regina herself hadn't left her spot on the clearing all day. Busy watching over Emma and glad to rest her feet, swollen despite the continuous stream of magic she sent through them. She had set up camp in a swirl of purple, mending the broken mirror in the process. It had crossed her mind to just return to her castle, the comfortable rooms so tempting in her mind, but something had stopped her. Something that smelled almost like hope, that foolish sentiment she had spent centuries scorning. It felt unfamiliar, rippling through her body like waves, ever rising and falling. _Maybe Emma will come back. Why would she? Maybe she misses the company. We fought_. She abhorred herself for her thoughts, hated the way she waited for the girl to return of her own will, when it would be so much easier to pull the strings and _make_ Emma come to her. Something held her back, something barred her manipulative ways and confined her to pointless snapping.

"Moving where?" Emma grunted and Regina delivered a swift blow of wind to her head, tousling the curls with cold air.

"Hey," came the immediate complaint, "What was that for?"

"I said, stop sulking," Regina declared, unimpressed by Emma's glare, and magically shook the branch the girl was sitting on. Emma hissed and tightened her grip, her shirt hitching up to reveal a row of matted stabs on her lower back. Regina drew a sharp breath, about to comment on the wounds, to offer healing, when Emma yanked her shirt back down and sat up.

"Fine," she said, her voice only subtly strained from the pain she was surely feeling, and Regina was once again, against her will, impressed. "Fine, I'm going." She pulled up her backpack from a lower branch and hoisted it over her shoulder, careful not to let it scratch over her wounds. Regina couldn't see how she was going to climb like that, with only one free hand and unbalanced weight, but she managed, swinging down from the tree only marginally less graceful than usually. Down on solid ground again, she made a few firm steps away from the village, then hesitated.

"Sprite?" Emma asked in a small voice and Regina held her breath. "You still there?"

"Always," Regina answered and hope was in her heart, that little black clump that used to be like a stone in her breast.

Emma breathed, in and out, and when she spoke again, her words were diminished to a whisper, but Regina still heard the message loud and clear. An unusually brilliant smile spread on her face when Emma asked; "Do you by any chance see another traveller nearby? Female, dark-haired, probably scowling?"

* * *

Regina was indeed scowling when a silhouette appeared on the other end of the clearing, a shadow in the last rays of the setting sun. It was, however, a quite fake scowl, one that she barely held in place to hide a real grin as Emma shuffled closer, looking contrite, yet also relieved when she recognized the spot for the one she had left Regina in.

"Hey," she murmured awkwardly, coming to a stop in front of Regina, who was leaning casually against a tree, observing her. "I didn't think you'd still be here."

She sounded almost hopeful but Regina, in spite or maybe just because of her delight about the girl's voluntary return, wouldn't let her off the hook that easily. "And I didn't think you would dare to come back," she said pointedly.

Emma flinched, looking appropriately chastised. "Sorry," she murmured with a grimace that told Regina just how hard it was for the apology to pass her lips.

"You'd better be," she still couldn't resist replying, but waved her hand in an impatient gesture for Emma to sit. The girl gingerly sank down, dragging her backpack off in the process. The brownish shirt was stained crimson in the back and Regina barely refrained from lifting it to inspect the wounds. It would blow her cover too quickly.

"I see you haven't found proper clothes on your detour," she instead acknowledged stiffly and Emma sighed with something like relief at the familiar tone.

"I... was in a bit of a tight spot in the village, no time to get trousers."

Regina almost laughed. "But you did manage to make a mess of your shirt too. Is that blood?" She said it a bit too casually to be convincing and Emma shot her an odd look before she nodded.

"Yeah, uh... tight spot, as I mentioned."

Regina arched an eyebrow but inched closer, her fingers tingling with the magic she was itching to use. "Let me take a look."

"Careful, you almost sound like you care," Emma half-laughed, though she hissed when Regina lifted the rough cloth to inspect the row of stabs.

"Careful, or I might leave you behind after all. This doesn't look good. What the hell happened? How did you get…" she quickly counted, "…six stab wounds?"

Emma laughed nervously, oblivious to Regina's shaking hands, when she thought of the weapon dealer who did this. Nobody got to hurt the princess but her, and she suddenly regretted not killing the guy. Purple smoke gathered between her fingers and in her palm, but she struggled to hold it back. She couldn't afford to heal Emma without having a proper excuse for it.

"I have a salve in my baggage somewhere," she said rather abruptly, letting the shirt go. "Stay here."

"What, now you're telling me you're a healer?" Emma called after her, disbelievingly, "You couldn't have told me before, when I scraped up my hands and thighs?"

"I don't waste my powers on stupid bruises you're determined to give yourself," Regina countered. She slipped into her tent, where she rummaged through her bags until she found indeed a tub of salve, albeit containing a simple lotion. Smiling contentedly, she headed out again. "Now, lift your shirt."

Emma coloured slightly but turned around obediently, lifting the hem of her shirt. The wounds had to hurt more than she let on, if she wouldn't even talk back and Regina felt her brow furrow as she inspected the cuts again.

"We have to wash this off first," she announced, "Hand me your water bottle."

Emma complied and Regina carefully scrubbed her own fingers clean first and then turned to Emma's back. She frowned. "You don't have a clean kerchief by any chance?"

"Of course I have, it's right over there, next to my wardrobe full of spare clothes."

"No need to be so sarcastic," Regina snapped, then stood up again to look for a clean towel among her own things. "You're awfully unprepared for being out here on your own."

Emma swirled around to scowl at her, but she couldn't really object, with her back bloody and her trousers torn. Regina sent a victorious smirk her way and ducked into the tent, hearing an exasperated groan from outside.

She quickly found a kerchief, as well as a blue shirt and black trousers that, she argued with herself, she wouldn't wear anyway. A snap of fingers even transformed one of her waistcoats into a full-size cloak, its colour so crimson Emma would never be able to sneak around unseen again. With a gleeful grin, she returned outside.

The girl's eyes widened at the pile of clothes. "I might run off more often," she whispered, almost tenderly, and Regina scowled and shrugged.

"Thieving scum," she muttered jokingly and Emma's hand wandered to the stolen knife Regina knew she kept in her pocket. For a second, the girl looked conflicted, then she caught Regina's eye and stuck out her tongue at the amused glint in it.

The washing went well, Regina always keeping at least one layer of cloth between her magic-laden fingers and Emma's bruised skin. Soon her back was clean, probably cleaner than it had been in years, only the six stabs contrasting the pale expanse. Despite the pain, Emma had held still the entire time, her breath only hitching whenever Regina came close to her sides.

"Ticklish?" She had asked, and Emma had shaken her head, then nodded quickly when the kerchief approached the dip of her waist again, "don't lie to me" menacingly uttered behind her.

"Now, this might tingle a bit," Regina finally warned when she exchanged the water bottle for the pot of salve, and she could practically hear Emma roll her eyes. "Just so you know and won't complain," she added sternly, scooping up a dollop of lotion in her hand. It coloured purple and warmed up when she carefully let some magic pour into it before she turned to apply it to Emma's skin.

She touched Emma's back almost gingerly, to avoid unnecessary pain she reasoned, and quietly spread the salve over each of the wounds. Emma shivered slightly when Regina's fingers first touched her skin, the spark of magic tangible even for her, and when Regina was done, wiping her hands with the kerchief, the girl eyed her oddly from the side.

"What?" Regina asked when Emma didn't say anything, "Does it feel strange? I warned you about the tingling."

"It's not that," Emma said, narrowing her eyes. "It’s just... do you smell that?"

Regina sniffed, but there was nothing. "No...?"

Emma frowned. "It's a weird scent, a bit harsh but also sweet, hard to describe. I smelled it earlier today too, when I was at the village. It seems familiar…" She trailed off.

Regina raised an eyebrow, though her heart was starting to race. Magic. Emma was sensing her magic. She couldn't allow the girl to ponder further about the matter.

"Maybe it's the salve," she said quickly, a bit too quickly and Emma's eyes narrowed as she nodded, unconvinced.

"Yeah. Maybe."

* * *

Emma was okay with avoiding villages after that. Although Regina healed her wounds as quickly as she dared to without raising suspicion, the marks of her encounter with the dealer went beyond skin-deep. There would be incidents when she would scramble down from some tree, more carefully now that she was wearing Regina's clothes, looking stricken and reaching for the knife she had finally gotten around to telling Regina about.

"It's not like I stole it," she said when Regina had raised a reproachful eyebrow at the weapon. "I paid for it, fair and square, with a handful of my very own hair."

"What a strange settlement," Regina had remarked but didn't pursue the issue further. She knew why Emma didn't want to talk about her humiliating adventure on the market square. She noticed the girl lying awake every night after, absentmindedly rubbing over her back, and decided to keep the story undiscussed. Emma silently thanked her for it by sharing other secrets during the long days of walking.

"Fun fact; I've actually never seen that much water before," she would say when they followed a stream for several days, glad for the cool it provided.

"So that's why you're so dirty," Regina replied teasingly, and Emma stuck out her tongue.

"Are you proposing a bath?"

"Bathe? In the river? Have you gone mad?" Regina asked incredulously, eyeing the burbling water with contempt.

"Yes, in the river you snob," Emma shot back and of course Regina had to stop the horse then, leaving it to drink and rest as she stepped up to Emma who had already bowed down to test the water temperature. "Oh," she shuddered, "It's icy."

"Which is why we surely won't _bathe_ in it," Regina said, "that would be suicide."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Oh, will you stop exaggerating? It will be fun. It will be an adventure."

"I am fine without your adventures," Regina still replied stiffly, and Emma pouted and groaned and complained but Regina wouldn't be moved. There were limits even in this, easy, company they were entertaining these days.

Another day, far later in the season when winds shook the high trees and Emma clutched the cloak Regina had given her tightly, they came across an abandoned cottage in the woods, one just like Emma's old home. The girl got hard-eyed at the view, but agreed to spend one night under a proper roof, instead of a tent in Regina's case, or still the bare sky, in Emma's. Regina sighed happily when she sighted two real beds in one corner of the dusty room, and while she hadn't dreamed of sleeping on a thin and moth-eaten mattress in her queen days, the softness of it now felt heavenly to her battered back. For the first time in years, she was glad that the curse had stopped her from ageing.

That evening, Emma sat silently on one of the beds, her eyes wandering over the wooden walls that were covered in cobwebs, which Regina pretended not to see. Her hands were restless, fingers tapping on her leg, nails scratching loosely over the tattoo. Regina tried not to watch her but it had become harder these days, to ignore Emma. Harder to treat her like a nuisance, a companion by chance not choice, and so she settled into her cushions with a strangely uneasy feeling between her ribs and her magic alive in her veins.

"A secret for a secret?" The girl whispered, just when Regina had closed her eyes to try to sleep in spite of her discomfort. Instead she opened them again and groaned.

"Figured you'd choose the first calm moment to rekindle our game. Do you have a specific question in mind?"

"A story, actually," Emma said and Regina's eyebrows shot up. Now, that was new. She hoisted herself up on her elbows and looked at the girl, her blonde hair gleaming softly in the firelight. Emma met her eyes steadily, only a hint of the usual guard in the green. Still she hesitated briefly before she began talking, the pause feeling more like a habit than real doubt.

"I... never got to know my parents. They abandoned me when I was a baby, gave me away to live with dwarves who raised me, in a cabin just like this one. That was my childhood, a bunch of dwarves and me, until I ran away on the night of my birthday. I couldn't stand it anymore." She paused, the absence of her voice feeling as dry and unemotional as its presence.

Regina licked her lips, unsure what to say. She'd known the story of course, but Emma's cool matter-of-factness as she divulged it, surprised her. The girl's gaze flickered over to where she was sitting, and for a fleeting moment Regina could see a vulnerability in it, nervously checking if she had gone too far in telling Regina about her childhood. For a moment she looked so different to her usual tough front, startlingly young and insecure. Regina sighed and shook her head.

"Anything to escape the clowder of midgets, huh?" She said as sympathetically as she could muster and Emma's head snapped up and she stared at Regina, first confused, then slowly changing to amused until she was almost smiling.

"Yeah, dwarves can be... questionable," she nodded, and finally slid down under the ragged blanket, propping up her head on one hand. "Have you met some?"

"Remotely," Regina confided, remembering the countless times she had watched Snow White and her dwarf guard through the mirror. "Their brains really must be the size of a pea."

Emma laughed tentatively, but her brow wrinkled and she suddenly gave Regina an estimating look from beneath tired lids.

"Have we talked about this before?" she asked, just as Regina opened her mouth to ask what was wrong. Instead, the queen's brow furrowed.

"About dwarves? Unlikely, I prefer to avoid the topic."

Emma's eyes narrowed further and all the humour had bled from her voice when she murmured; "But I could swear we... You calling them pea brains and midgets and..." She trailed off and suddenly Regina remembered. Yes, she had complained about dwarves before, seven years before to be exact, when she'd first talked to Emma, disguised as a water sprite. She remembered the indignant face Emma had made, and the lilt to her young voice as she'd called for her guardians to stop pranking her. The way she had cocked her head in thought when nobody came out, and now she cocked her head too and Regina had to interfere before Emma sorted out her memories and "a secret for a secret" became less of a game.

"Oh, who knows," Regina therefore shrugged as casually as she could manage, painting on a smirk to hide her real face, "I might have walked with you, once upon a dream..."

At least it sufficed to make Emma roll her eyes and extend her leg to poke her, but when she curled up into her usual sleep position the thoughtful expression remained on her face and Regina lay awake for hours despite the comfortable bed.

* * *

The next day brought rain and the first autumn storm. Never happier to have found the cottage just now, Regina was determined to stay a while longer, and stoked the fire with new wood before she settled back into bed. The roof leaked in several places, heavy drops of water collecting in puddles on the floor. One hole was right above Emma, and Regina gave a mean chuckle when the girl woke with a start as a particularly large drop hit her on the cheek. Emma, after looking about the room for several seconds, wild-eyed and breathing fast, retaliated by throwing a pillow at Regina.

They stayed in bed for the morning, Emma pressed against the wall to avoid the water, Regina staring straight ahead, feeling restless and nervous. She hadn't checked the mirror for days, Emma's eyes constantly on her, and Regina slowly began to worry about the fate of her kingdom. A queen wasn't supposed to be absent for months, not when her kingdom was trapped between two hostile territories, and she had left in a rush, leaving her politics in an apt yet inexperienced hand. Thirteen weeks since she had sat over her maps, thirteen weeks since she had last signed a law herself, thirteen weeks of absence and someone was bound to discover it sooner or later. What would happen if Gold found out that the Black throne was temporarily empty? What if White had finally stepped up and decided to resume the war over their lost territories?

On the other hand, Regina wasn’t prepared to leave Emma just yet. It wasn’t safe, what with winter coming, turning the woods into a cold and inhospitable snowscape; or at least that’s what Regina tried to tell herself. In truth, she had somehow grown used to the company, the easy back and forth between them, and was thus hesitant to return to the dreary surroundings of her castle on her own. Not that she would admit that to anyone...

Regina's brow furrowed at those thoughts, and she had almost forgotten about Emma’s presence, until the girl asked "What's wrong?" and startled Regina right out of it.

"Your nosiness is what’s wrong," she replied but lacked the bite. "Can't today's youth occupy themselves for a single minute?"

"You've been staring at the same spot on the wall for fifteen minutes," Emma pointed out defensively, "besides, you still owe me a secret."

Regina groaned and sat up. Her hair was a mess of tangled curls spilling out of her untidy braid, and she momentarily yearned for a brush, a bath; the luxuries of her palace. "I hate being on the road," she muttered more to herself than as an answer for Emma but of course the girl picked up on it nevertheless.

"Quit complaining," she said in an exact imitation of Regina's sprite voice and for the second time that day, Regina started. Emma caught her incredulous stare and rolled her eyes. "What, I just thought it would be an appropriate thing to say. I mean, it's not like we can change something about our current situation, right?"

Regina turned her glare to full force - nobody silenced the Evil Queen without suffering the consequences - but at the same time she had an idea. An idea that had been triggered by Emma's question and she glowered a little harder still before she averted her gaze and looked at the fire instead, plan forming in her head.

"Actually," she said, throwing Emma, who had remained remarkably unperturbed by the glaring, a thoughtful glance; "We do have another option."

"We do?" Emma echoed, now sitting up as well, "what is it?"

Maybe Regina would regret this, maybe this was the first step to the dismantling of her disguise, but she was tired of the forest and of endless days of walking when in truth none of them had a goal, or a place they wanted to reach. Regina would change that now, would deal with potential questions on Emma's part later.

"My childhood home," she said with determination, ignoring the way Emma's head snapped up, her eyes burning with curiosity. "I grew up not far from here, and while my parents are dead" - of course, Cora was far from dead, but there was no need to trouble Emma with tales of other realms and an angry young queen who had pushed her own mother through the looking glass - "I've kept it in form for many years. We can spend the winter there."

Emma's breath caught at "we" and she was nodding before Regina had even finished. Regina sent her an amused but somehow relieved glance and the girl flushed and shrugged.

"I mean, I guess it can't hurt, although I do have business in..." She trailed off, blushing even deeper as she tried to recall their first meeting months ago.

"The west," Regina supplied, not able to suppress the lie at the sight of Emma's struggling. "We both had business in the west."

"Right," Emma said hurriedly and Regina had to avert her face to hide her grin.


	7. in which a house becomes a home

They arrived at Mills Mansion on a cool and clammy evening, a sharp wind bringing down the leaves from the ash trees surrounding the estate, whipping them at their faces in a moist welcome. Regina rearranged her hood for the umpteenth time, holding on to the cloth tightly as she stared up at her childhood home that loomed in front of them. Tall and white, it stood, stout pillars supporting the entrance, slender turrets adorning main and adjoining houses. Cora might never have been queen but she'd certainly known how to live like one, and Regina remembered days and days of etiquette lessons in the dining room, hours spent in front of mirrors as Cora did up her hair, telling her that "a lady has to sit up straight, and the men will bow to her" and "posture is self-respect so stop slouching."

"Okay, wow," Emma said next to her, interrupting Regina's thoughts. The queen looked up, secretly amused about the girl's hardly eloquent awe. If only Emma could see her own castle, the massive palace in gold and marble, the arching bridge... but of course, Regina reminded herself firmly, ignoring the sudden pang, Emma would never get to experience the White castle, unless the curse was ever broken. Which Regina would give her everything to prevent. She longed to see Snow White ultimately defeated, wanted to see her collapse onto her daughter's lifeless body, her fluttering little heart breaking like Regina's had once broken.

They had reached the entrance door, and Emma's hand was trailing cautiously over the wood carvings decorating the heavy portal while Regina fastened the horse to one of the pillars. She would have a servant bring him to the stables later; Regina herself hadn't set foot into them since _the incident_. Even now, after twenty-seven years, she could still picture the interior as clearly as if it had been yesterday since she'd stormed down to the horses, a cape flung around her just like the one she was wearing now, her faced flushed with giddy anticipation. But her mother had prevailed; Snow White had prevailed, and even now, twenty-seven years later, Regina clenched her teeth as she pressed her hand against the entrance door and activated the ancient blood magic that secured it.

A click sounded out, softly and satisfyingly, and then one of the oak valves swung open liked pulled by an invisible force. Emma's eyebrows shot up and she turned towards Regina, lips parting in the incipiencies of a question, but she was cut off by a lance suddenly pointed at her throat.

"Who are you and how did you get in here?" A black-clad knight demanded harshly, his weapon directed at Regina herself, who rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"Your master," she snapped, folding her hood back to reveal her face. The guard's eyes widened and he quickly pulled back his lance. His companion, who was aiming at Emma, looked conflicted, until Regina snarled at him and he almost dropped the metal in his hurry to retreat.

"We didn't expect you here, Your M - ," he began but Regina lifted her hand, effectively silencing him before he could spill her title in front of Emma.

"Well, here I am. Send someone to prepare my room, as well as the green chamber for my guest."

Two sets of eyes landed on Emma who raised her chin and stared defiantly back at the guards. Her fingers curled around her bow and Regina had to suppress a dark chuckle at the surprise in the men's faces. The queen had never brought a guest before, much less a blonde girl of seventeen who liked to play Robin Hood. Also, the queen was getting impatient.

"Now!" She commanded sharply and the men jumped and hurried away to inform the maids. Regina watched as they disappeared behind two different doors at the end of the hallway, then turned to meet Emma's look. The girl seemed to try hard to mask her astonishment but Regina had spent enough time around her to recognize the tell-tale set of her jaw, the glimmer in her eyes, the way she cocked her head almost imperceptibly, and she knew Emma's curiosity had to be raging behind her feigned nonchalance.

"You have to excuse my guard's incompetence," she drawled, just to mess with the girl, "I assure you he will be decapitated by sunset."

"What?!" Emma sputtered in shock before she noticed the malicious glint in Regina's eye and groaned. Regina bit back a cackle and instead settled for one of her infamous smirks.

"You looked so intimidated, I had to."

"I did not!" Emma immediately protested, "I was just, you know..." she shrugged and Regina's grin widened, "appreciating the welcome."

"You haven't seen your room yet," Regina felt obliged to point out, "Maybe it's the torture chamber and bringing you here has all been part of an elaborate scheme."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Right. Because I am such a crucial pawn in the game of the world."

Regina almost snorted. "Well, who knows," she said, already turning away, "You might be more important than you think. This way." And she led Emma to her room.

The green chamber was by no means extraordinary. Of moderate size and furnishing it had never been much in use, a guest room for Cora's sparse visitors in its best days, a storeroom during the rest of the time. A maid scurried out when Regina pushed open the green door that gave the chamber its name, and Regina surveyed the space critically before she stepped aside to allow Emma in.

The girl's eyes widened as she let her gaze wander over the splendour presented to her; satin wallpapers covered in floral designs, a marble fire place next to an armoire made of heavy rosewood, a grand four-poster by the window, silk drapes drawn back to reveal a view over the garden.

"You really spoil your prisoners, don't you?" Emma murmured, and the maid who had returned to carry buckets of warm water to the adjoining bathroom gave her a startled look. Regina noticed with amusement that Emma stood on her toes, twisting her fingers behind her back as if afraid to touch anything. For the first time, the girl seemed to be aware of the stains on her clothes.

"A bath is being prepared for you," she told Emma almost soothingly and the blonde tore her eyes away from the room to look at Regina.

"Right," she said, relaxing marginally as she trailed a curious finger over the smooth wood of the door frame. "It is... nice of you to have me." Her voice tripped over the words and her gaze slipped away from Regina's halfway through it; still Regina felt a strange surge of sentiment at the thanks. For a moment she was tempted to follow through with the etiquette, acknowledge the compliment with one in return. Her mouth opened, but then reason got the best of her after all and so she only nodded, formally as if Emma and she had signed a contract.

"My own room is down that hallway," she said, pointing it out for Emma. "I will see you for dinner." The air reverberated with the unspoken order as she turned away and left, anxious to finally be alone.

Dinner was a quiet affair. Emma mostly avoided Regina's eyes, after meeting them once upon entering. Regina had changed into a dress after washing, a blue velvet gown that had helped her adopt the queenly behaviour she'd needed for her first business mirror meeting with her ministers since she'd left the castle. Emma had flushed hotly when Regina had first entered the room, then stared down at her plate with a furious expression for the rest of the meal.

Regina had smirked, taking pride in her reverted role as the ruler. She enjoyed filling the room with her presence, and she forked her way through three courses, hastily arranged by the kitchen stuff, as she watched Emma pick at her food. The girl, hyper aware of Regina's eyes on her if the steely quality in her own glare was anything to go by, grew stiffer with every bite she took, her cheeks colouring when Regina chuckled.

"Stop staring," she finally murmured into her pudding when they'd almost finished.

"Pardon?" Regina replied, although she had understood the girl well enough, "I didn't quite catch that."

"I said, stop staring," Emma repeated louder, still looking only at her own hands, "You're creepy."

"I didn't realise eating was such a private affair."

"And I didn't realise your childhood home was a fucking palace," Emma replied, then winced and jumped up. "Forget I said that." Before Regina could react, the girl had fled the room, hair beating like a flag behind her.

For a moment Regina sat in stunned silence, only the sounds from the maid clearing away Emma's plate audible. The maid watched Regina from the corner of her eyes and the queen gave her a burning glare that sent her almost running through the kitchen door, before Regina stood up to follow Emma. Nobody stormed out on the Evil Queen like that.

The green door was closed and Regina could hear shuffling noises from inside, as well as not so quiet muttering.

"You're talking to yourself again," Regina said, knocking against the wood and promptly the muttering stopped.

"Stalker," Emma replied after a pause but it sounded much less teasing as it did defeated and Regina frowned before she knocked again.

"Open the door."

"Leave me alone, Regina."

Regina sighed and pressed the handle. The door, not having a lock like every other door in the mansion, swung open to reveal Emma in full gear complete with backpack perching on the windowsill. The room was icy, a cold wind entering through the open window, tousling Emma's curls and slamming the door shut behind Regina, the sound loud enough to make Emma swirl around.

"I told you to leave me alone," the girl said indignantly and if the situation hadn't been so delicate, Regina would have laughed. As it was, she arched an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"What are you doing, Emma?"

For a split second Emma looked conflicted, guilty even, before she crossed her arms and raised her chin.

"What does it look like?"

"Running away," Regina said, rolling her eyes. "You seriously want to go out there again?"

Emma pouted, ever defiant, and Regina noticed for the first time that while the girl's arms and face were scrubbed and clean from the bath, she had still worn her old dirty clothes for dinner. Regina frowned.

"Didn't somebody supply you with..."

"Dresses?" Emma's voice sounded bitter and she was clearly avoiding Regina's eyes. "Yeah, there are loads in there." She waved her hand towards the open armoire which was filled with rows and rows of Cora's old dresses. Regina flinched.

"Oh," she said.

"Yes, well, I'm not gonna wear that," Emma replied. "In fact, those dresses made one thing abundantly clear. I can't stay here. Like, no way." She was tracing her tattoo, her nervous tell, although her face gave nothing away.

"Can you elaborate on your reasoning?" Regina said, closing the wardrobe door firmly and set her mind on telling the maids to exchange the dresses the following day. "Why do you think you cannot stay?"

"Uh, because I don't belong here." Emma said as if it was obvious and Regina's lips twitched irritably as she mustered the girl who still wouldn't look at her.

"What makes you think so?"

And finally, Emma looked up, her eyes alive with that familiar burning anger. "Because I grew up in a cottage, Regina," she spit, growling when Regina remained unperturbed, "with dwarves."

"And...?"

"And this is a castle, and you were a queen playing traveller, but I'm a traveller and I can't play queen."

"You're wrong," Regina said, and luckily Emma was too worked up to pick up on the partial lie. Fury really looked magnificent on the girl but Regina couldn't afford to stoke it further or Emma would not hesitate to walk out on her.

"You have lived with dwarves, so what. You left them, and it was a smart thing to do. But running away from here? A shelter for the winter, a house that can provide you with food and a bed and warmth - it would be stupid to leave it behind, out of pride, out of spite. I don't particularly like being here either, believe me. This house hoards a lot of unpleasant memories, but if I have to choose between here and the forest..."

"You choose here," Emma finished, thoughtfully at last. The fight had left her and instead of rigid and harsh, she now sat a bit slumped, weighed down by her backpack.

"I definitely choose here," Regina nodded, crossing the room in a few strides and leaning over Emma to finally close the window. "And you should too, although of course the quality of my stay will be diminished slightly by having to endure your snores. They are loud enough to be heard through the walls."

"Hey," Emma protested rather weakly and Regina smirked. "Good night, dwarf girl."

"Sleep tight, Your Majesty," Emma replied and for a moment Regina's heart stopped, before she noticed the teasing gleam in the girl's eyes.

"Beware, pygmy," she laughed, a bit forced, before she turned around and finally left the room for good.

* * *

Winter came creeping like a predator on the hunt. First there were only small signs, a nasty draught here, an icy shower there, before the last leaves dropped and the season closed its claws around nature, trapping everything in a cage of white.

Regina had never been so glad to be at Mills Mansion as when she woke one day to a fully-fledged blizzard outside and hot bath inside. She slipped into the steaming water with a sigh of gratitude, towards herself, for coming up with the idea. Snow covered every mound in the woods she was sure, and she couldn't imagine being out there now, grappling for shelter under one of the larger trees, branches groaning under the white masses.

However, when she left her chambers and hurried through the cooler hallway towards the lounge where merry flames danced in the fireplace, she was astonished to find the room deserted safe for a maid.

"Is the girl still in her chamber?" She asked her.

"No Milady," the woman replied, no longer tripping over the title Regina had demanded her servants to use, "Miss Emma has gone out in the early morning."

"Out?" Regina couldn't quite hide her surprise, "Are you sure."

The maid nodded primly, "Yes Milady." Regina still double-checked the room and hallway in a quick sweep, before she snapped her fingers and conjured the handheld mirror. Its handle was still warm from when she'd used it for her usual morning meeting with the ministers, and an image appeared almost immediately on the glass. Indeed it showed Emma outside, Regina's cloak wrapped tightly around her shoulders, as she made her way through the snow, towards the stables. Over the course of the last weeks Emma had become accustomed to the life at the mansion, its luxuries and offers, and she usually spent hours in the basement where the guards kept their weapons, marvelling and training with the swords and lances. Regina had tried to talk her out of it; half-hearted attempts that she gave up on when she noticed how much Emma liked being there. Besides, every interest that would estrange the princess further from her parents was more than welcome to Regina.

Then Emma had discovered riding. Or, well, not riding so much as in sitting on a horse, but more the stable life itself, the close contact with the animals, the hard work. Regina had to watch the girl who she'd started to tolerate more and more, return daily to the one place that held the worst of her memories. Emma would leave the mansion at dawn, even the early rise no longer an issue, and spend the morning with the horses, returning for breakfast with the scent of hay still in her hair.

Regina would feel the familiar ache in her chest, the memories of Daniel resurfacing and scratching at her insides, and still she couldn’t bring herself to forbid Emma to go. Not even when the pain dulled and changed into something else, an incomprehensible fear that the place's bad aura would somehow affect Emma too, hurt her and take her away from Regina. It didn't make sense, and Regina spent nights of sleepless tossing trying to rationalize her worries away, plastering the label 'enemy' over and over again on Emma's pale forehead.

The girl only had to enter a room and Regina would look up, ready to engage in one of their teasing conversations that usually left her agitated and filled with too many emotions to keep them contained. She felt Emma change too, her eyes sometimes lingering on Regina even after they'd finished the conversation, her guard sometimes almost see-through and sometimes not there at all.

"You're most likely the worst friend I’ll ever have," she had said only recently, rolling her eyes though there had been an edge to her words.

"You thought we were friends?" Regina had replied and stayed serious for about the second it took for Emma's smile to waver, and then sent her a playful glare. "Oh please, who could ever compete with me?"

Emma had laughed, loudly and freely, and it had loosened something long repressed in Regina, something that made her watch the black lines on Emma's wrist almost regretfully.

The tattoo shone against Emma's skin now too, the girl removing her glove to reach up for a horse's muzzle, carefully feeding it an apple. Her hood was folded back, her curls glittering with snow in the light of a torch, and a brilliant smile spread on her face as she talked softly to the animal. Regina's heart clenched; Emma becoming Daniel for a moment, the stable boy who had always cared so much for the steeds. He would have gotten along well with Emma, if he hadn't been murdered that is, by Snow White and her treacherous little mouth. Emma was them all; Snow White's smile and Daniel's caring heart, the victim in the blood feud between White and Black, and the one who would be the end of it all.

Emma looked up right then, sniffing before her face lit up.

"Sprite," she said, and Regina swore under her breath. This wasn't supposed to happen, Emma was smelling the magic and getting ideas. A quick survey of the room told her that the maid was gone though, and so she decided to just talk to Emma for a minute or so, if only to maintain the glad smile on the girl's lips.

"Don't you look chipper?" She answered by way of introduction, earning a grin from Emma.

"It's been good since we last talked. Hey, want me to introduce you to the horses?"

"I'm not really interested in horses," Regina replied, amusement dancing through her sprite voice. Emma pouted.

"Just like Regina. I swear, sometimes you're so similar."

Regina froze but the girl only shrugged and continued as if she hadn't just discovered one of Regina's best-kept secrets.

"I just thought you'd like animals, being a sprite and all that."

Regina laughed a bit forcedly. "Remember the birds though?"

Fortunately, Emma was far too occupied with the horses to notice the strain in Regina's tone. She only grinned, caressing a velvety muzzle. "Right," she nodded, "I should have known."

"Anyways," Regina said after a short pause, "I have... other business to attend to."

That got Emma to look up. "Really?" She bit down on her lip right afterwards, as if she hadn't intended to say that at all. Regina suppressed a chuckle. "I mean," Emma added after another moment of silence, "You haven't even met Regina."

"I don't meet and greet," Regina replied quickly, _too_ quickly and Emma's eyes narrowing in surprise. "I'll... talk to you another day," she thus hastily finished the conversation, blocking the mirror's sound connection before Emma could say another word, and then clearing the picture too when the girl continued to talk mutedly, growing more agitated by the second. Another wave of hand lets the mirror disappear. Regina sniffed tentatively in the air and, although she couldn’t smell the traces of magic, opened one of the windows in the corner of the room.

Emma entered a couple of minutes later, her face squeezed into a frown as she rubbed the cold out of her red fingers and cheeks.

"It's snowing like hell outside," she replied to Regina's wordlessly raised eyebrow. "Why on earth have you opened a window?"

* * *

Emma stayed silent throughout breakfast, brooding over her porridge, only casting a few furtive glances at Regina opposite her. It was unnerving to say the least, those calculating looks and deep lines on her brow, made Regina feel on edge during the whole affair.

"What are you doing later?" She asked, with the sole purpose of interrupting Emma's thoughts. The girl looked up.

"Well, I'm certainly not returning to the stables. Too snowy. My trousers are still wet." She lifted her leg to the side for Regina to see and the queen in turn lifted a disapproving eyebrow.

"I know, I know," Emma said, "I should have changed. I was too hungry though."

Regina only hummed in response, her eyes resting on Emma until the girl flushed slightly and turned back to her porridge. "What are _you_ up to later?" She murmured.

Regina reached out to smooth down one of Emma's curls that defied the parting in a very irritating way. Emma's eyes snapped up, staring at Regina's hand still hovering before her and Regina smiled. She had the girl's full attention now.

"I thought I could show you the map room. Acquaint you a little with the world. You are a traveller after all, you’re bound to miss discovering."

"Seriously?"

Although Regina had spoken very casually, Emma looked at her as if she knew that the offer was more than a randomly decided activity. It was a gift, specifically chosen for Emma, and the girl's eyes warmed with affection, enough to thaw away the last dregs of brooding in them. Regina smiled indulgently and told herself she had merely wanted to let the girl drop her suspicions.

Within seconds, Emma had wolfed down her porridge and was ready to go, bouncing slightly on her chair, while Regina took her time to finish her own breakfast.

"Patience is a virtue," Regina smirked when Emma groaned as she reached out for a second helping, but she only touched the spoon and drew back. "You are very easy to rattle," she commented on Emma's stuck-out tongue, then pushed her chair back; "Let's go."

The map room reached by no means the standard of Regina's own in the Black Castle, but Emma's eyes still widened when she stepped in. Cora had been a collector and a tigress ready to hunt, and her maps were almost solely of White, her all-time designated prey. Grand rolls of parchment that documented the history of the kingdom were stored away in a shelf that covered the wall to the left, while the opposite side was occupied almost entirely by one, magical map that showed the territories as they were and not as they had been years ago, when Cora had last stayed at the mansion.

"Welcome to my mother's world," Regina said dryly, trailing a hand over the rolls, a thin layer of dust coating the paper. Emma threw her a questioning glance, but Regina shrugged it off.

"Here are we," she said, tapping at a black spot on the magical map. The dot pulsed, flared, and grew into a sketchy drawing of the mansion with the word "Mills" curling above it. Emma gasped and stepped closer to inspect the picture.

"It looks so true-to-life," she said, poorly concealed awe in her voice, "I didn't know your mother had magic." Through the wonder in her green eyes flashed another suspicious shiver. Regina cursed herself.

"Yes, she was a very apt enchantress," she said stiffly, then decided to distract Emma with a question in return. "How have you become accustomed with it?"

Emma's brow furrowed and she suddenly stepped back. "Magic? I haven't."

"Well, you clearly must have seen it before or I doubt you would’ve stayed so calm," Regina challenged, "Did your dwarves use magic?"

Emma laughed and just like that, the tension in the air dispersed. "Okay, firstly, they weren't my dwarves. Secondly, I wish. It would have simplified so much, don't you think?"

"Maybe," Regina shrugged, the relief making her careless, "but magic always comes with a price. You should be glad you didn't have to pay it."

Emma had fallen silent, eyeing Regina with that mixture of hesitation and curiosity she seemed to adopt every time Regina was on the verge of sharing a bit from her past. Usually it made the queen check her words, wary of telling too much and accidentally revealing her secret identity, but today something was different. Emma was different. Only a short debate played across her face, before she moved forward with determination and put a tentative hand on Regina's arm.

"Your mother... she was a piece of work, wasn't she?"

Regina hesitated, trying to look away from Emma's eyes but also not wanting to, strangely desperate for the portion of comfort they offered. "She was a difficult person to love," she finally offered, the words scratching in her throat. Emma squeezed slightly and Regina had to swallow down a whole lot of sentiment to prevent herself from telling the girl more. She cleared her throat.

"Anyways," she began, moving a step away. Emma's hand fell from her arm. "That's where we are. In the middle of Black." She traced a way around the kingdom; her kingdom. "And we met about here," she pointed out a nondescript spot in the woods, close to where White bordered on Gold. Her finger also hovered over where she knew the dwarves' cottage lay, but of course she couldn't tell Emma that, although the girl's eyes were wandering over the map like she was seeking for that place exactly.

"Where do you normally live?" She asked after a while of looking and curiously touching the map to find out more details. Regina's smile from watching her childlike awe faded.

"Near the centre of Black," she replied non-committal. "Close to the capital." Emma's fingers brushed over the ink of the Black castle and Regina sucked in a breath, but the girl's hand had already moved on.

"So you've always been a Black?"

"Technically, Black didn't exist when I was born," Regina replied, "The kingdom is relatively young; it was only founded about eighteen years ago."

Emma flushed. "Right," she said, self-conscious, "I knew that."

"Of course you did." Regina turned away to hide her smile, before heading over to the shelves. She pulled out a heavy scroll and smoothed it out on one of the many tables. Emma had followed her curiously, hovering close behind as Regina weighed down the corners of the parchment and straightened up again.

"Here is how the world looked before you were born. White is much larger, you see, those territories in the north that now belong to Black. Gold hasn't changed much, except for expanding a bit to the east."

"And then Black emerged, just like that?" Emma asked and Regina hesitated. Some part of her wanted to share the story of a young queen, her story. Another wished that she hadn't brought up the topic of territorial changes at all. But although it presented a risk, she found herself longing to talk about her life for once, instead of keeping it all inside, where it fouled and ate away at her. Besides, who said she couldn't use the tale to her advantage? The girl was easily won over and how would Snow White cry if she ever witnessed her daughter defend the enemy? And before Regina could think further about it, her mouth began talking.

"There was a queen," she said, and Emma looked up in surprise at the changed tone, solemn and sombre. "A queen who had been forced into marriage and made ruler of a country that wasn't hers. She endured the king, she endured the king's daughter; a ravishing young princess. When the king died and the princess fled, she stepped up to rule the country that wasn't hers because she had been made queen to do exactly that. But the people didn't accept her and they called for their princess, to be the rightful ruler. The queen was exiled, banned from throne and country, left to fend for her own. So she did, turning back to her home, the north, setting out to unite the smaller territories and independent communities into a country as big and as powerful as the one she'd been banished from."

"Black," Emma whispered into a pause and Regina nodded. "Black." The girl exhaled, her breath brushing Regina's shoulder as she leaned over her to peer at the map.

"But why the missing territories from White? How did the queen get them?" She murmured, extending a finger to point at the broad streaks of land Regina had negotiated away from White.

"There was a war, about five years ago," Regina said darkly, turning back towards the girl. She was close enough to see the scatter of gold in Emma's green eyes, the way it only intensified when they widened in shock.

"Throughout the years after Black had been founded, White tried to regain supremacy, fought from the outside and attempted to break it up from the inside by making her own people hate their queen. It was only a matter of time until Black made a move too."_ Involuntarily_, she added in her mind, expression darkening as she thought of Rumplestiltskin. "White didn't make the mistake to underestimate Black again," she finally finished, searching Emma's eyes for a reaction. They were serious but veiled, a firm guard in place that prevented Regina from reading in them. At that last sentence they narrowed slightly.

"How do you know so much about the Black Queen?" Emma asked silently.

"She and I are very close," Regina replied, prepared for the question with one of the almost-truths that Emma hadn't figured out how to detect yet. "That connection is part of my bad reputation I told you about."

"But it's not fair, if it's only founded on tales," Emma said, almost defiantly, and Regina smiled sombrely.

"Nobody ever said it had to be fair."

"But..." Emma sputtered and she looked so afflicted on Regina's behalf that the queen reached out to fleetingly brush the girl's cheek.

"It's alright. She will manage."

_As long as her secret remains safe_, Regina thought, fingers falling away from Emma's skin as she reminded herself of her duties and Emma's destiny, and she turned away hastily. "Feel free to remain in this room as long as you wish. Now, if you'll excuse me." And she fled from Emma and her confused eyes, dragging her disguise behind her like a heavy cloak of shadows.

As long as her secret remained safe.

A week later, Rumplestiltskin paid them a visit.


	8. in which an imp wreaks havoc

Regina was sitting by the fire, straining her eyes to read the fine letters in her book as night fell outside. Flames danced over the pages, obscuring t's to l's and Regina frowned and squinted and was just about to give up, when a door slammed in the corridor and hurried steps came closer. Seconds later, Emma stuck her head in, curls a mess of hay and snow and Regina was inclined to sniff indignantly when she noticed the alarmed expression on the girl's face.

"Regina," Emma hissed, as if Regina hadn't put away the book already and was approaching her. "You've got a visitor! He's..."

"Now I'm curious, how would you describe me?" Came a gleeful voice from behind her and Regina stopped dead in her tracks.

"No," she said, aware that Emma was eyeing her oddly, the _You know him_? spelled across her forehead. "No!"

"Yes!" Rumplestiltskin giggled, before a greenish hand pushed Emma into the room so he could step in behind her. "It’s been a while, _Regina_." He pronounced her name with all the mock in the world and Regina squirmed under Emma's solid stare.

"Rumplestiltskin," she acknowledged through her teeth, "This is Emma. Emma, Rumplestiltskin. He's... an old ally."

Emma's eyes were switching from Regina to the imp and back again, mouth dropping open into what was an almost Snow-esque bafflement. Rumple on the other side clapped his hands, a wide grin breaking on his face.

"Oh yes, Emma. Emma, of course." He directed his evil eyes at Regina. "My _ally_ has told me so much about you. Or she would have, I'm sure, if she had bothered to be home to meet me from time to time."

"Uh," Emma made, blinking several times before Regina moved to speak again.

"My apologies. I have been rather busy."

"So I see," Rumple smiled slyly, taking in the crackling fire, the book by its side, the comfortable armchair Regina had been sitting in, until finally his gaze landed on Emma. The girl promptly flushed, a deep red in her cheeks that, by the looks of it, annoyed herself to no end. She crossed her arms, raised her chin proudly and glared at the imp in masterly feigned brazenness.

"And who are you to enter and judge? How did you even come here, I didn't see a horse."

Rumplestiltskin smiled at Emma in a way that made Regina's skin crawl. She fought not to step protectively in front of the girl, knowing that it would only infuriate Emma further.

"My dear girl," Rumple said and Emma's eyebrows shot up, "there are other ways to travel." He leaned over to Regina and stage-whispered; "I like her temper."

"I'm right here," Emma interrupted sharply, drawing Rumplestiltskin's gaze towards herself once more. Regina desperately gestured for her to stop but Emma didn't look at her once.

"How do you know Regina?" She demanded to know, causing Rumple to grin widely and Regina to want to bury her face in her hands.

"Old allies, I told you," Regina said, just as the imp exclaimed; "What an interesting question," rolling the r dramatically. Of course, Emma didn't spare Regina another glance.

"I've known Regina since she was a girl. How old are you, dearie?" Rumple pointed at Emma as if he didn't know the answer.

"Eighteen," Emma lied and the Dark One giggled maniacally.

"No you're not, but _she_ was,” he nodded towards Regina, “…when I met her. Oh, what a lonely girl, our Regina, so misunderstood, so furious. Talented too, eager to learn, after an initial hesitation. I took her on as a student, taught her almost everything she knows..."

"Knows about what?" Emma asked and Rumple laughed, a shrill and high-pitched sound, interrupted only by Regina's snarl.

"Enough! Get to the point Rumple, why are you here?"

Emma started to protest, turning towards the imp for backup but he smiled dangerously and shook his head. "Listen to the Queen, dearie, story time is over."

"Queen..." Emma echoed, looking more confused than ever. Regina froze. Rumple watched them both attentively, then laughed indulgently.

"Regina," he said, "Her name translates directly to 'Queen'. An old joke between… _allies_." He looked sharply at Regina when he said it, a clear warning in his eyes. _You are not in control here,_ they seemed to say, _you are merely on parole_.

"Why. Are you. Here?" Regina bit out through gritted teeth, feeling the magic curl under her skin, trapped, repressed like her anger.

"I just wanted to check up on you," Rumple said smilingly, baring his rotten teeth at Regina. "Make sure you stay on track. We wouldn't want to lose it all so close to the end, would we?"

Emma stared blankly back at him. Regina's hands clenched into fists. "Of course not," she growled, "I'm fine, thank you."

"Uh. Somebody care to tell me what's going on?" Emma asked, brow furrowing.

"I'm sure your _friend_ will explain everything to you soon enough," Rumple said airily, "I, for that matter, should be going. It's lousy weather up here." And with that, he disappeared in a plume of crimson smoke. Regina swore under her breath. Emma staggered forward to trail a hand through the dispersing cloud.

"Magic!" She exclaimed, stunned as she lifted her fingers to inspect the lack of stains on them. "He magically poofed away, did you see?!" She sniffed and the lines on her forehead deepened in confusion. Regina's heart sank, Rumple's parting giggle resounding in her ear before it faded away into emptiness. The Dark One was gone, but the damage was already done.

"Did you know he had magic?" Emma demanded to know next, lifting her intent gaze to settle on Regina, who - dumbly, carelessly, treacherously - hesitated. Emma's face fell. "Oh," she said, "Oh. That's what he taught you, right?"

"I..." Regina began, and there was a newfound hurt in Emma's eyes, a betrayal that burned its way deep into the green. "Yes," Regina finally admitted, unable to lie anyways under Emma's scrutiny. The girl nodded heavily.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It never really came up." Regina winced at her own words, knowing that there had been often an occasion. Emma's look was flat, anger rising to banish the disappointment. Good, Regina could deal with that. She nourished the dregs of her own fury, the fire stoked by Rumplestiltskin's appearance, and wielded it into a weapon.

"I mean, what should I have said? Hello stranger, by the way, I have magic? We don't even know each other!" Her voice was so much sharper than she had anticipated, all edges and splinters and Emma reeled back.

"Right," she said tightly, "We don't." and she turned on her heel to flee from the room.

Regina remained frozen in place, torn between wanting to reach out, call "Wait, I didn't mean it", and following Rumple's advice to stay on track. After all, an emotional attachment to the victim of her curse would bring her nothing but trouble in the end. _Love is weakness_, Cora's voice echoed in her head, paired with her own. _This is _my_ happy ending_. With a stony determination she settled back into her armchair instead of going after the girl, taking up her book and gripping the pages to prevent herself from conjuring the mirror.

She didn't read a single word all evening.

* * *

Regina already felt that something was wrong upon waking up. As she sat up, magic coming alive in her veins with her fading slumber, she felt it, a certain emptiness, a silence that hadn't been there before. She creased her brow and subconsciously reached for her mirror to check up on Emma before she remembered the fight and reluctantly let go of the metal again. Silence was normal, she told herself; silence meant Emma was probably still sulking.

But the lounge lay empty, the shadows cast by an ineptly merry fire the only motion, and Regina's stomach dropped with dread.

"Is Emma at the stables again?" She still asked the maid, who silently shook her head. "Or training with the weapons?" She directed that question at a guard marching past and he denied it as quietly. Everything was too still, the outer lifelessness a stark contrast to the welling emotion inside Regina. Almost frantically she hastened towards Emma's room, rapped at the door, again and again, pressing her ear to the wood to hear if there was any sound coming from the inside but it was all quiet. She opened the door.

The first thing Regina noticed about the Green chamber was the bed. Not only stood it empty, but the covers were tucked neatly into the sides, the linen smooth and fresh and so expertly made that no doubt remained that Emma hadn't touched it the night before. Regina staggered back, mind racing as she tried to find another sign, any sign, that Emma was still at the mansion, although she felt the emptiness crashing into her, felt the girl's absence like a leech gradually sucking up her strength. No bow leaned against the nightstand, no clothes lay strewn across the floor. The armoire, as she yanked it open, was filled to the brim with trousers and shirts she had ordered for Emma. She knew without looking that the only outfit missing was that first she had gifted to Emma, after healing the stab wounds. That girl and her damned pride.

Regina caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror on the door of the closet, and a maniac laugh escaped her. She looked dishevelled and distraught, her hair still falling free over her shoulders, purple smoke pooling in her palms, magic no longer in check as it broke through her skin in fine tendrils, her eyes almost black with anguish and... the mirror!

A wave of her hand, a barely controlled burst of power, and the surface went black, no, white, showing a snowy landscape. Trees stood bent under the weight of white, bushes unrecognizable under their snow cover, and more flakes were falling still. Between it all, a spot of crimson, like fresh blood on linen, and Regina almost cried out in relief. Emma was there, huddled under her cloak, bravely, no, stupidly, taking step after step away from Regina. Her face scrunched up with the effort and her lips shone bluish against pale skin, much like her fingers clinging to the coat, bare and white around the knuckles. She must have been walking all night for her eyelids drooped and her lips parted in a yawn as she tripped over her own feet, falling face forward into the snow. She didn’t get up again.

"Emma!" Regina cried out, automatically reaching out towards the mirror to shake the girl but her fingers met icy glass and Emma didn't react. "Emma," Regina said again, thinking _hang on, hang on, hang on_, as she frantically tried to locate the girl without losing her in the process. Never had she been so grateful for that red cloak, shining brightly against the white even as Regina zoomed out, desperate to spot a landmark, a road, anything that would help her find Emma’s location. There, a river, frozen all over and covered in snow but unmistakably a river, and yes, Emma had walked northwest, to not be blinded by the sun even though it was hardly penetrating the flurry. A snap of Regina's fingers and a map was in her hands, another snap and smoke rose around her, carrying her to the river and further, until she materialized again with her legs knee deep in the snow.

The cold shot up her spine almost painfully enough to make her regret the overhasty depart. The ankle long dress that she wore soaked in the matter of seconds, clinging uncomfortably to her skin as melting snow seeped through the velvet, and the wind hit her squarely in the chest, raising goose bumps across her bare collarbones. She couldn't imagine how Emma had braved the weather for a whole night while being only marginally better equipped with her leather boots and autumn cloak. No wonder she had fainted. Tears stung in Regina's eyes, as she hurried over to the speck of red - brought to her eyes by the biting wind of course - and she kneeled next to the lifeless girl without paying a second thought to the cold.

"Emma," she whispered, carefully turning the girl over to brush the snow crystals off her cheeks. Emma's eyelids fluttered at the touch, her lips trembling as if she wanted to say something, and Regina slowly, very cautiously, pressed a purple-imbued hand to her chest to let warm magic ooze into her. Emma's lips parted, a deep breath shuddering through her body, Regina rested a second hand on her abdomen and the girl's eyes opened.

"Regina," she moaned, tripping over the syllables, "What...?"

"Shhh." Regina smoothed out the creases forming between Emma's eyebrows. "It's alright."

The colour trickled back into the girl's cheeks and lips with every second that Regina's hand was pressed to her, and soon enough Emma's teeth began to shatter as violent shivers ran through her body.

"W-what are you d-doing?" She bit out in-between two waves, her hands jerking up to push Regina away; "Now I'm c-cold."

"Cold is good. Cold means you are regaining sensation," Regina said soothingly, but Emma wouldn't hold still. She clawed at Regina's arm with her numb fingers, icy touches that stirred up the purple smoke and Emma stared at it in surprise before Regina took advantage of the short hesitation and pinned Emma's wrist over her head into the snow, which rapidly melted around Regina's heated skin. Emma's mouth dropped open.

"You really have magic," she whispered, the trembles gone. Regina's eyes locked with Emma's, the green clear again, only a silvery shimmer betraying how close she'd come to death through hypothermia.

"I do," Regina replied. She released Emma's hands and moved her hand back to the girl's abdomen instead. A sigh escaped Emma when the warmth hit her and Regina averted her gaze. "Why did you run away, Emma?" She hadn't meant to ask her, not yet anyways, but the magic drained her strength and the anxiety of the morning had left her weary. In her mind she had planned to scream the question, to demand the answer, to make Emma realize just how deeply she had frightened her. _You could have died, _she wanted to cry, _you could have frozen to death and nobody would have been the wiser_. She wanted to be angry, to lash out and hurt somebody, but instead the knife turned inward, slashing away at her heart, that dark little clump, and a tear rolled down her cheek. "Why do you always run?"

A slender finger reached up to catch the tear, brushing softly against Regina's skin as it moved down to curl under her chin. "I thought I had been wrong about you," Emma whispered when Regina looked up, and her eyes shone with sincerity. "I was insecure and afraid and furious, oh _Regina_, so furious. I misunderstood the situation, I think."

And Regina laughed, a wet sound that blunted the knife in her chest and dried the tears in her eyes. "Are you sure about that? I'm a terrible person, maybe I lied to you on purpose."

"You weren't exactly lying," Emma said generously, lips lifting into a smile of her own. "And you were right. I'd probably have run away a long time ago if you'd told me about your powers."

Regina grinned. "Wrong again. You would have been far to intrigued to leave."

"Okay, fair point." Emma finally sat up, curls wet with snow. Regina's hands fell from her body, the purple tethers between them pulling taut and then snapping. Right on cue, Emma shivered, Regina jerking forward again, then hesitating as she realized just where she had been touching the blonde. Two handprints were dry on the otherwise soaked shirt, one sprawled over Emma's abdomen, right under the swell of her breasts, the other about three inches higher. Regina shied away, avoiding Emma's eyes as she stood up and brushed the snow off her dress with trembling fingers.

"We should get you home," she said, business-like, ignoring Emma's confused blinking. "Remember how Rumplestiltskin vanished yesterday?"

"Uh. The smoke thing?" Emma asked, swaying as she tried to get up. Regina extended a hand to help her while firmly looking into another direction. Her skin tingled from the direct contact and she let go as soon as Emma found her balance.

"Precisely. It's a difficult piece of magic that allows you to travel from one place to another in the matter of seconds. Do you trust me?"

"Wait, you know how to... poof?" Regina was oddly pleased at the awe in Emma's voice. She nodded.

"Rumple was an apt teacher, albeit an infuriating one. It helped that I had the talent."

"Your mother," Emma guessed and Regina nodded again, a bit stiffly.

"Now, do you trust me?"

"I do," Emma replied, sounding almost surprised, "What do I have to do?"

"_You_ don't have to do anything," Regina smiled, heart momentarily dropping in relief. She would have hated to transport Emma without the girl's consensus. "This one is on me. Just, try not to throw up, I am moving us directly into your room."

"O-kay," Emma pulled a face but couldn't quite hide the grin spreading on her lips. "Let's poof."

"That's such a ridiculous word," Regina said while already throwing her hands up to let the smoke engulf them. The wind picked up, carrying her voice over the snowy hills, now deserted again.

Of course, Emma staggered into Regina upon arriving. The familiar lurching sensation still toyed with her stomach, her vision slowly coming into focus, when a heavy body slammed into her from behind, sending her to the floor with Emma on top.

"Ooof," the girl cried out and for a moment Regina was honestly afraid she would start retching. Emma's mouth was positioned somewhere between her left shoulder and nape of her neck judging from the exhale brushing over Regina's skin and covering it in goose bumps. As much as Regina's dress was ruined already, she really could do without vomit on it. But Emma was already inhaling again, a sharp intake of breath that seemed to suck the oxygen out of the air.

"Damn," she swore, jerking back with a start, hands drifting all over Regina's dress in search for purchase and hip bone digging in Regina's waist. In spite of herself, Regina chuckled - ticklish, of course. Emma groaned. 

"You're never gonna let that go, right? _Remember that time we poofed and you tripped?_ Ugh, I can already hear it." Her hand had finally found the floor and not Regina's shoulder, ribcage or waist, and she pushed her body off and rolled to the side, panting from the effort. Her cloak made a weak splashy noise against the stone tiles and Emma buried her face in her hands. "Let's pretend this didn't happen."

"You should know me better than that," Regina said, sitting up to inspect herself. "You ruined my dress."

"Seriously?" Emma laughed, then broke into a cough.

"Yes, your idiocy resulted in -" She broke off, furrowing her brow at the still coughing girl next to her. "You've caught a cold. My magic helped but your body has been exposed to the snow for too long. Let me send you someone to prepare a bath, then you'll spend the rest of the day in bed. No complaining," she added sharply when Emma opened her mouth to object. "You brought this on yourself."

"Can't you just magically heal me?" Emma still spoke up, earning a dark glare from Regina.

"My powers are not bottomless, give me a break. Besides," she threw a wicked smile Emma's way, "the disobedient will be punished."

"Dictatorship," grumbled Emma.

"Life. I covered up your last self-imposed injury, it is time you learn from your mistakes."

Emma stared at her, brain clearly working and just when realization dawned, Regina got up to leave.

"I knew those stab wounds couldn't have healed so fast," Emma called after her, "I totally knew it. Plus there was this smell, the same as -" She was cut off by yet another coughing fit and Regina slipped away towards her own room, stopping only to send a maid to the green chamber.

For once Emma seemed to obey because Regina didn't see her again that day. After returning to her own room for a hot bath and a change of clothes, Regina spent most of her afternoon trying to push away the worries that had lodged themselves deep into her heart. The threat of losing Emma had cut too deep to be dismissed just yet, the cold shiver of fear still clinging to her back even as hot steam rose in curls from the water scorching her skin. It originated from her thirst for revenge, Regina reasoned, the victory that had almost been ripped away from her, simply because of a girl's foolishness. The vapour settled in drops in her hair, sticking it to her brow, the long curls still unkempt and down in her hast to get to Emma, and Regina didn't have to see her reflection on the surface of the water, to know she was really lying to herself. The heat brought colour to her cheeks, a crimson flush that involuntarily brought back the image of Emma's shirt. Wet, safe for two handprints on chest and abdomen, and Regina blushed deeper, glad for the solitude of her bathroom. Her fingers tingled with magic, fizzy energy coursing through her veins and she had to forcibly grip the ceramic edge of her bathtub to stop the purple from leaking out. She hadn't lost control of her magic since her early days, and even then it had been from inexperience and unbridled fury and not... these inexplicable feelings Emma managed to evoke in her. Regina groaned and rolled her head back to give the water access to the strained muscles in her neck. 

_The girl is my enemy_, Regina told herself when she left the bath, wrapping one towel around her naked body, and one around her hair. _She should be treated as such_, she internalized as she selected a dark red dress with fur trimming. It would probably be better to stay away from Emma for a while, Regina concluded, walking down the corridor on her way to the lounge. Her steps still slowed as she passed the green door, then picked up again when she heard a cough from inside. _Stay away, stay away, stay away,_ Regina repeated in her head as she trailed a finger over the wood, then hurried down to the lounge. 

She managed to resist for twenty hours, and for the record, it was Emma who had insisted contact.


	9. in which some secrets are revealed, and others hidden away

Regina had just woken up, the sound of hail tapping against the windows loud enough to rouse her from the wine-induced sleep she'd seeked out the previous lonely evening. Her head felt heavy and she briefly called upon her minister to tell him she would pass on today's conference, before she sank back into her cushion and closed her eyes once more. Before she could drop back into a comfortable slumber however, a rapping at the door roused her again. The maids were under strict instructions to enter only when she rang for them or had left her chamber. Then again, the head that peeked through the slightly opened door wasn't a maid's.

"Emma! Is something wrong?" Regina exclaimed, cursing the way her stomach still dropped with dread. Enemy, she snarled at herself, but her heart rate still picked up at the sight of blond curls and shining green eyes.

"Morning, can I come in?" Emma replied with a question on her own, already slipping into the room wearing a ridiculous combination of cotton pants and a too large shirt that Regina deduced had to be her pyjamas. She suddenly felt very exposed in her silky gown, especially when Emma's eyes roamed over it before dropping to the floor. "Uh..."

"Why are you here?" Regina asked, pulling up her covers too late, her voice sounding strangely hollow in the embarrassed silence. Emma's face scrunched up, she scratched the back of her head, let out a fake cough that evolved into a real one, and then, finally, looked up again. 

"I had a lot of time to think yesterday," she began, and Regina swallowed, expecting the worst, but Emma only winced and finished with: "and I guess I owe you an apology. And a thank you."

Oh. Regina felt her lips lift in a grin. "That is okay," she said and Emma's eyebrows shot up in surprise, only to squeeze together in suspicion straight after. 

"It... is?" She had closed the door and was now tiptoeing over the stone tiles, curious eyes sweeping over the panelled walls, the dark wallpaper that, once upon a time, had been Cora's choice, upsetting Regina then and feeling comfortingly familiar to her now, the full-length mirror opposite the bed and the handheld mirror on the nightstand, and then back to Regina.

"I mean," the queen hurried to say when Emma dropped down on the edge of her bed and rubbed her cold feet, "I mean, you already apologized yesterday."

"I didn't, actually," Emma replied, subjecting Regina to a scrutinizing stare. Regina did her best to answer with a glare of her own, but relief was still swirling in the pit of her stomach, making it hard for her not to smile at Emma and her uncommon display of gullibility. Suddenly Emma laughed.

"Did you miss me?"

"What? No!" Regina exclaimed in bewilderment, narrowing her eyes at Emma who was watching her closely, amusement glittering in her gaze. 

A pause ensued during which Emma pouted exaggeratedly and Regina tried to figure out why she felt that the control over the conversation was slowly but surely slipping from her grip. If it had even been hers to begin with – the amused glint in Emma’s eyes suggested otherwise. 

"Why?" Regina still had to ask when the silence started crawling in her mind, upsetting the delicate equilibrium of self-confidence and power, and bringing on the beginnings of a throbbing headache. Or maybe that was still the wine's fault, combined with the snorting laugh that escaped Emma at the question.

"Because you smell of alcohol," she grinned. "Lonely evenings are not your thing?"

"I was cold," Regina excused, scoring a remotely guilty expression on Emma's face before amusement prevailed again. "How do you even know the scent of alcohol?"

"Dwarves, remember?" Emma countered. "You didn't answer my question."

"Because it was a stupid thing to ask. I am so used to loneliness, one evening here or there doesn't bother me much. Not everyone had the questionable luck of growing up with seven pygmies around all the time."

"Your self-pity doesn't work on me," Emma claimed, though she sought out Regina's hand under the covers and gave it a soft squeeze. "What wouldn't I have given for a little solitude from time to... wait," she stopped absently brushing her thumb over Regina's palm and looked up sharply, "What did you just say?"

Regina frowned. "Not everyone grew up with seven dwarves?"

Emma's hand twitched in hers. "There were eight dwarves," she said tersely and the lines in Regina's brow deepened.

"No, there was Happy, Bashful, Grumpy..." and then she realized. Emma's nails scratched her skin as the girl jumped to her feet, staring incredulously down on Regina. She was shaking her head, slow at first, then faster and harder, all the while Regina sat on her bed rather helplessly, cursing herself and the wine and the situation. 

"Emma, can you please sit down?" She finally asked, surprising herself with how calm her voice sounded. "There are some things you should know."

"Oh, certainly!" Emma was still shaking her head, making it very hard to read her face. At least she had sat down, though she was still bouncing up and down on Regina's bed. "I can't believe I didn't notice. You speak the same. You think the same. Hell, you even smell the same, and all the time I thought it was simply, I don't know, light magic as opposed to Rumplestiltskin's dark one, not a signature smell and oh, I could have _known_!"

"Stop that," Regina said sharply, daring to do so now that she realized that Emma's anger was mostly directed at herself, not Regina. Emma's head jerked to a halt. 

"Exactly the same tone," she growled, "and the smell, the same strange harshness and still sweet..." 

"Yes, well, it's hardly the smell of light magic," Regina said dryly, then squirmed when Emma's furious eyes turned to her.

"Explain."

Regina hesitated. For a split second she longed to make up a story about how she knew the dwarves from another place, to hide behind another mask and preserve her secret. Emma would see right through her though, and lying would only infuriate her further. Besides, a part of Regina also wanted to tell the truth, let Emma tear down another wall between them. That was the part that terrified Regina. Still she drew a deep breath, met Emma's eyes, and began.

"I have always had a certain affinity for mirrors. I just think that they're beautiful, showing who you really are, no disguise, no pretence." Regina swallowed when Emma's look grew more furious by the second, shadows in her eyes like dark clouds gathering before a storm. Still, she had needed the prologue, the time it had bought her to figure out what she could tell and what would have to remain hidden. 

"But mirrors do have other advantages too," she thus proceeded quickly, "magical benefits that come with their smooth surface. Here, let me show you." She took up the handheld mirror, slowly as if Emma were a wild animal that would be startled by sudden motions. The flash of purple was scentless to her, or maybe she had grown accustomed to it. Emma however inhaled deeply, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth before she pulled them down into a frown again. 

Regina lifted the mirror. Instead of her bedroom, it was now showing the frozen surface of a lake, a small circle of whitish blue surrounded by snow-laden trees and reeds that resembled icicles. Emma gasped, a delicate and unwanted sound, leaning forwards in spite of herself.

"It's my lake," she whispered, extending her fingers to brush over the looking glass. Regina smiled.

"Our lake," she corrected. "It's where I contacted you for the first time. You see, the mirror doesn't merely show the image of a place. It rather works like a membrane, a separating layer between here and there, and I can choose how thin I make this layer. Keep your hand there." 

Emma shivered when Regina carefully adjusted the connection, allowing sensation to travel through the glass and turning it cold to the touch.

"So that's how you talked to me? Through opening the membrane for sound. And sometimes you were just watching me silently.” She was speaking quietly, almost to herself, her fingers tracing the smooth surface of the mirror. “And then there was that time when you sent magic through and tied me to the trees... but why?"

"Because you weren't ready to leave the dwarves just yet," Regina replied, letting the image go blank again. Emma's gaze remained fixed on the glass as the white bled away and gave way to the dark tones of Regina's room, then she looked up.

"Not what I meant. Why were you watching me? Talking to me? Eventually coming to travel with me? Because that's what you did, didn't you? Once you realized that I wouldn't return to the cottage a second time."

"Yes," Regina had to admit, concentrating on that one full truth before sliding in another half-concealed one. "It is part of my life's work to watch over you."

"Right," Emma said sceptically, searching Regina's eyes for a lie, "I thought you weren't a fairy godmother."

"I'm not."

Emma raised an eyebrow at Regina. Her anger seemed to have faded almost completely and now her looks were mostly curious, as intrigued as ever about the magic parts, a touch of unexpected excitement in them about Regina's involvement in her childhood. 

"You know, I wouldn't have needed your protection," she still couldn't resist to put in and Regina leaned back into her cushions with a sort of relieved sigh about the typical statement. Her reveal hadn't changed that much after all.

"That looked different yesterday," Regina teased back, even smiling a little when Emma stuck out her tongue.

"But," the girl ventured again after a little pause, and Regina lifted a hand.

"Enough stories for today," she said, "Now let me rest."

"You're getting old."

"Hush or I won't save you next time."

* * *

Emma didn't let the matter go quite as easily as Regina had hoped, though she couldn’t say she was surprised. Over the course of the next weeks - months, really - she was ambushed in the most unexpected moments; in the corridor, in the lounge, and even frequently in her bedroom, although Emma always blushed furiously when she caught the queen in her nightgown or, on one particular incident, in the bath tub. Regina had turned the water cloudy with a wave of her hand and looked up smirking, strangely pleased when Emma still couldn't look at the blurry shape of her and stammered through her question, showcasing a lovely shade of pink.

Of course it was questions Emma ambushed her with; questions about magic and questions about Regina's sprite persona. In other words, mostly questions Regina's couldn't or wouldn't answer, and although they had gone back to their game of exchanging secrets for secrets, Regina had a hard time to come up with equally complicated things she could ask Emma about.

"Who was your favourite dwarf?" She inquired once and felt quite smug about it until she realized that the answer held very little useful information to her. Emma in turn asked if Regina had ever used her magic to actively harm a person, to which Regina replied with a sarcastic; "You do realize that's what 'dark magic' entails, right?" It had left a bitter tang on her tongue. 

She was used to those by now, the tiny stings that accompanied her interactions with Emma, a flinch here, a wince there while the girl prospered into a young woman of Regina's kind, fierce, quick-witted, standing her ground more and more every day. She challenged the guards to archery duels and occasional swordfights, requesting riding lessons for every win. She'd dared Regina to fight her once, a question asked with wriggling eyebrows and a cocky smirk that had resulted in Regina flicking her hand to release a magic wave strong enough to slam Emma into the nearest wall and hold her there while Regina sauntered close.

"One piece of advice, dear," she had drawled, ignoring the twinge she felt when Emma struggled not to flush crimson at the deliberate finger put under her chin. "Don't underestimate me."

As soon as she was released, Emma had stormed off with beet red cheeks and a frustrated glimmer in her eyes, off to the stables, where she knew Regina would never wander, and wasn't to be seen again the following days. She muttered a lot to herself, Regina found out upon checking up on her, never loud enough to understand what it was about, but inarguably conflicted, in a constant discussion with herself. Riding seemed to sooth her and she picked up on it quite quickly, being daring enough to approach the horses again after being thrown off, but gentle too, never harsh with the animals. The genes after all, Regina supposed, as she sat rolling her eyes at the mirror.

"You're too soft, they'll never respect you," she said one day and Emma looked up in the magnificent combination of annoyance and excitement that did things to Regina these days. Things like tugging her lips into a smile and waiting in anticipation for Emma's witty comeback and even pondering ‘poofing’ to where Emma stood in a spot of spring sun and brushed a Haflinger, only to carry on this conversation face to face.

"Do you even know how to ride?" Emma scoffed only to be transported onto the unsaddled horse in a flash of purple, startling the animal enough to send it running.

"Do you?" Regina grinned, catching Emma mid-fall and magicking her into the lounge, where the blonde collapsed on the sofa next to Regina before jumping up again, wild-eyed and furious.

"You could have killed me!"

"Doubtful," Regina replied, narrowly avoiding the cushion Emma hurled at her. "I was in total control. As I always am, including on horses, to answer your question."

Emma huffed. "Sometimes I hate you." She didn't meet Regina's eyes at the words.

Some weeks later, on one of those first warm days that lured flowers out of their buds and birds into courtship display, they sat next to each other on a balcony. Emma had talked Regina into joining her with a few well-placed dares and threats. Regina was watching her subtly, the way the sunlight teased out the freckles on her cheeks, the pale red so soft in comparison to the blatantly black lines staining her wrist as she reached up to scratch her nose. The petals in the tattoo were delicate but their meaning ugly, a death sentence scrawled across fair skin and nausea came over Regina just when Emma turned her head. Her eyes were closed so she didn't catch Regina staring, and by the time they opened, the queen had already sorted her features into a neutral frown.

"If you know how to ride," Emma began, "and you enjoy it, or enjoyed it once, judging from the way you look at me when I return from the stables, all nostalgic and regretful - no need to pretend - then I have to wonder; what made you stop?"

"You _have_ to?" Regina repeated sarcastically, in a meagre attempt to divert the conversation's course into safe banter, but Emma didn't even blink.

"I mean, it doesn't make sense. You have a whole parade of great horses down there, all the equipment, I found riding jackets in your size in the basement - and yet you won't even enter the stables? That seems strange."

"You have learned to do your research," Regina said, half impressed by Emma's newfound investigation skills and half confused that she wasn't all that panicked about Emma finding out about another one of her little secrets. Nervous yes, but not afraid, and the realization sent another sting through her body, one that only intensified when Emma leaned closer to gently cup her hand. Her eyes were green puddles that reflected Regina's insecurity like mirrors, the same hesitation about the new level of intimacy her question introduced, yet also the same determination to take this step.

"Why?" She whispered, a single word that melted the last remains of the guard in her gaze, leaving her eyes clear and open, and Regina unable to look away.

"Why have you never asked me to show you the dwarves’ cottage on the mirror?" She queried hoarsely, causing Emma's expression to flicker in confusion.

"I don't know, bad memories?"

Regina smiled, a sad curve of her lips that apparently sufficed to make Emma understand because she squeezed Regina’s hand.

"You don't... have to tell me, you know," she said quietly.

"I want to," Regina replied simply, and then she did. She told Emma the story of Daniel, the stable boy, a mother that became the Queen of Hearts, and a girl of ten who told a secret. 

"She destroyed my happiness," Regina whispered, and Emma bit her lip before she cautiously reached out to catch the single tear that had rolled down the queen's cheek. Her thumb brushed softly over the skin, and Regina shuddered under the touch, vulnerable after shedding so many veils. 

"She destroyed me," Regina repeated, a violent pang in her chest stopping her from leaning too much into the caress. "By taking the one I loved most." Emma's hand fell away.

"Have you ever seen her again?" She asked quietly. Regina had thus far withheld the name and position of the girl she'd saved, hesitant that it would complicate the situation further. The lasting feud between Black and White was slowly but surely becoming a matter of utmost misery for Regina, the entanglement of Emma's fate with her revenge increasingly regretful.

Oh, how she longed to share her story: of the hatred for Snow White that grew over years of further heartbreak; of the neglect and abuse she suffered at the King's court; of the naivety and denial on Snow's part; of the withdrawing and hardening of her own soul; of the constant switching between Snow’s begging that she "_come play__, __Regina_" on one hand and "_You can't tell me what to do, you're not my mother_" on the other; of her desperation, Rumplestiltskin, and Cora's dark spell-book; of finally having the means to practice revenge, for first and foremost her broken heart, and then her broken life. How she wished she could tell Emma about the thrill of power; how magic had sucked her in, and turned her into a weapon in a fight she wasn't sure was hers any longer. How she had spent years and years acting completely on her moods, and systematically destroying everything beautiful around her, blind and deaf to the consequences. If only she could talk about how she had set all her hopes on this final curse, the ultimate blow in a seemingly eternal fight.

Of course she couldn't tell Emma any of it. Something in Regina tightened painfully and ripped away at the same time, as a feeling of utter confusion, even panic overcame her and she had to clench her hands to fists to keep them from shaking. She _couldn't_ tell Emma, there was almost a physical barrier hindering her, like a stone weighing down her tongue, glue sticking her lips together.

So Regina turned away from Emma's eyes, struggling to remember the blonde's actual question. "Seen her again? No, never." It was a blatant lie, no half-truths coming to her easily, as she fought to keep her composure, and she felt Emma wince next to her at the obvious rejection.

"Regina, I -" she began, sounding confused, betrayed, helpless even; a mixture that only intensified the surge of guilt that ran through Regina, automatically activating her guard, which largely involved lashing out.

"Next time you wonder about something, maybe keep it to yourself," she snapped, already flying up from her chair. Emma released a surprised snort when Regina brushed past her, desperate for some solitude. "Not everyone enjoys these little heart-to-heart talks you insist upon."

"Excuse me, I said you wouldn't have to tell me the whole-ass story," Emma called after her, her voice getting quieter with every step Regina fled until she slammed the door shut behind her and cut off the rest of the blonde's tirade. 

"As if I had a choice," Regina muttered to herself, fighting tears with white hot anger as she stormed down the corridors. As if she'd ever had a choice. Except, didn't she have a choice? What kept her from consistently lying to Emma's face, or even cruelly telling her the truth? The girl’s fate was inevitable. Nothing could interfere with her revenge and Emma knowing about it or not wouldn't change a damn thing. So why wasn't she walking triumphantly, having set the game seventeen years ago? Why was she overthinking her moves, tiptoeing around her sworn enemy? Why was she _caring_ so much? 

Her vision blurred as a sob tore through her body, and it was all she could do to throw up her arms and summon her magic, before anyone could see her in this pitiful state.

When Emma knocked at her chamber door four hours later, Regina was on her way to bed. Or that was what she'd told her staff anyway, glaring at the maid who had wanted to bring up dinner until the woman averted her eyes from Regina's red-rimmed ones and left again, steaming stew still on her tray. In truth, Regina had spent the past thirty minutes sitting fully clothed on the edge of her mattress, glowering at the handheld mirror in her lap.

The surface showed Snow White, her grieving grimace in large format. Regina was trying her best to rekindle the kind of hatred that had first moved her to cast the curse, the kind of fury that would remind her of the reasons she had to destroy the entire royal family, including Emma.

Emma, who was now opening the door with a bang, metal handle hitting stone in a crash. Regina swirled around just in time to see Emma wince, before she put on a grim face, as if the ear-splitting entry had been her plan all along. 

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Regina exclaimed, hating the way Emma's mere presence made her feel better; less torn, less broken. It didn't make _sense_. The crying had turned her voice darker, a rough edge to the tone that made Emma's eyes snap shut for an instance.

"We have to talk."

"Didn't you hear me? I don't want to talk." _And I can't_, Regina added in her thoughts, _because what could I say_? Whatever was keeping her from telling Emma the truth was chaining her tight, clogging her mouth and keeping the words inside.

Emma rolled her eyes. "Then don't, whatever. Just listen, okay?" That unexpected turn made Regina nervous.

"If that's what it takes for you to leave me alone," She murmured, massaging her temples. She felt a headache coming on. Emma nodded to herself, closed the door, ran an inspecting hand over the handle, over the wall, the wood of the door - 

"If you would - ," Regina began, irritated by Emma's fidgeting and her own anticipation that grew with every passing second.

"Yeah, right," Emma cut her off and scratched the back of her head.

"So look. I've noticed that neither of us is exceptionally good at this sharing secrets stuff. I mean, you already know most of mine, being the stalker sprite of my childhood and all," she laughed nervously, "which is fine! Unnerving, but fine." She sounded incredulous about her words too, wrinkled her nose at the unmistakable truth in them, before she continued. "Anyways, the thing is, you've got secrets too, a whole load of them. And every time I find out one, you get all nervous and I do too and then we fight. And..." She hesitated. Regina raised an eyebrow. Emma took a deep breath, then burst out: "And I guess I wanted to apologize for probing so much into your private matters; sorry."

"Sorry?" Regina repeated stupidly.

"Yeah," Emma replied, shrugging sheepishly. "I know you don't like talking about yourself, and Daniel was a pretty big deal for you. I shouldn't have made you tell me about him. Even though I said you didn't have to…" she gave Regina a pointed look, "…I'm sorry for pressuring you. Also, what I didn't say earlier; I’m sorry for your loss, and what you went through. You must have loved him a lot." 

"I did..." Regina trailed off, then suddenly narrowed her eyes at Emma. "Are you trying to get an apology from me in return?"

"What? No!" Emma looked genuinely affronted.

"You really just came here to say you're sorry? You?"

Emma pouted, but it was with a tentative smile in her eyes. "Okay, there's no need to sound so surprised.”

Regina managed a weak smirk in return. The truth was, she'd expected Emma to sulk for weeks, had actually hoped it would provide her with the necessary distance from the girl to sort out, and ideally discard, her tangled emotions. She had not planned on Emma to mature this much during the few months since their last fight. A sigh escaped her, one that made Emma nervously bite her lip.

"Your turn to speak. I kind of gave it my all already, could do with a little response now..."

Her abrupt need for approval elicited a laugh from Regina. "You're such an idiot," she told Emma, way too fondly of course, but the sting accompanying her words wasn't all that bad considering the width of the smile she got in response.

"And you're a stalker," Emma grinned back, pointing at the mirror that still showed Snow White's complexion. "Who's that?" Regina's heart skipped a beat, but before the panic could really set in, Emma slapped her own forehead. "Actually, no, don't tell me. I can't do with another fight today. I said I was fine with you having secrets and I mean it. Let's just... you know, live in the now, okay?"

And Regina, releasing a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, nodded. "Okay." At the same time she promised herself she would figure this out eventually and then get on with her revenge.

* * *

Emma almost kept her promise to stop probing in Regina's secrets. Almost, because there were days like the one when she came back from a duel - which she still kept up despite beating everyone so soundly that Regina had to wonder if she'd employed plain stupid guards that still accepted her challenges - sweaty and still out of breath and found Regina sitting over reports from her ministers. Gold was getting cocky again and the more the situation at the borders tensed, the thicker those manuals became, taking up hours and hours of Regina's day. Time she would have otherwise spent with Emma so Regina guessed she shouldn't have been so surprised when Emma sauntered into her private chambers, curls a mess but looking very smug.

"And what were you doing while I fenced a perfect fight?" She asked, casually strolling over to pick an apple from the bowl on Regina's desk. Regina hurried to gather together all loose pages and stuff them into a drawer.

"Just paperwork. Watch your nose, it's almost scratching the ceiling." One slip of paper escaped her grasp and sailed to the floor. Emma picked it up, deliberately ignoring Regina's jab.

"_– it is therefore very advisable to double our numbers to prevent potential attempts at attack. If HRH the Cr. Pr. is reminded of our sheer forces, he might reconsider - _what the hell is this about?"

It was part of a letter the General of the War Council had sent Regina, and the queen had never been more grateful about his penchant for abbreviations before. She snapped her fingers and the slip dissolved into purple smoke between Emma's fingers.

"A... sale of land, so to say," she shrugged it off when Emma's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Another... buyer has entered the auction. Who did you beat this time?"

"Robert," Emma replied, still watching Regina closely. "Were all those papers about the sale?"

"Most of them, yes. Didn't you fight Robert just yesterday?" One of Regina’s younger employees, Robert was a handsome and very obedient fellow, who had never attracted much attention before. Now however, Regina’s brow wrinkled.

"He keeps coming," Emma shrugged. "Always asking for a rematch although he never stands a chance. He probably likes me." Regina arched a sharp eyebrow.

"Inconceivable."

Which earned her a violent push from Emma, which nearly sent her toppling from her chair. She responded with a flash of magic, which Emma dodged.

"Ha!" The blonde exclaimed triumphantly, only to get hit from behind.

"Mirrors," Regina smirked, catching Emma's fall at the last second. A wave of scent washed over her as Emma tumbled into her, vanilla soap and fresh grass with spring flowers, and beneath it all a waft of musk like the forest at noon, and Regina inhaled deeply and then pushed Emma away in horror, except it wasn't horror but a kind of longing. Inconceivable.

"It eludes me how you win your fights with balance like that," she murmured, the smell still sitting in her nose, clouding her thoughts. “Or rather, your lack of it.”

"Attacking from behind is not fair," Emma replied, equally breathless and for a second Regina was tempted to look up, to check if there was a tinge of red in Emma's cheeks, one that would match the heat she could feel flushing her own.

"When has life ever been fair?" She replied, an unexpected weight to her words, and then she looked up after all, only to meet Emma's eyes, wide and green, so green, as her gaze slowly dropped and - 

Regina turned away. Ignored the tension like she always did. As she did when the weather finally allowed her to wear lighter dresses and she could feel Emma's eyes on her plunging back neckline; or when Emma complained about the heat and Regina offered to put up her hair and Emma shivered under her touch. Instead of burying her hands in soft blond curls and massaging Emma's scalp to see if she could elicit a hum of contentment, or maybe a gasp, a moan; or instead of undoing the braid, claiming it didn't sit right, only to brush through the hair all over again; instead of commenting on the goose bumps forming on Emma's nape, just underneath the fuzzy baby hair, and turning the whole scenario into a tease; instead of doing any of this, Regina just swallowed. She finished the braid as quickly as possible and withdrew her hands without another word. She turned away to hide her fingers, clenching into fists, as she told herself over and over again that _this_, whatever _this_ was, had to stop.

_This_, that made her go over her guard lists and assign all the hard jobs to Robert, making sure he worked overtime and didn't have time to duel anymore. _This_, that made her wake at night, a dream just slipping out of her grasp, leaving only a breeze of musk and a burning hollowness in its wake. _This_, that made her aware of Emma's glances in the first place, a consistent mindfulness of another person, a presence that always seemed to be there. 

It was unnerving. It was confusing. It was, above all, unwanted, and so with Emma's eighteenth birthday approaching, Regina made a decision. Emma had to leave. And she already knew a reason that would make her.


	10. in which a princess gets an unusual birthday present (or two)

June 22nd promised to become a most beautiful day. A gentle breeze swept through the garden, swaying the trees like in a waltz. The morning dew had just dried to leave the expanse its freshest green. Luscious grasses mingled with buttercups and daisies that all joined the dance of the trees, and small fuzzy clouds were littered across a sky the colour of Snow White's eyes.

It was a sickening spectacle to Regina, who had just been woken like she had ordered, and was now faced with weather so utterly mismatched to her mood that she briefly considered conjuring a rainstorm. She decided to waste magic on getting dressed instead, spinning purple smoke into the dress she'd laid out the day before; a simple black gown that would complement Emma's new bright red waistcoat just right.

Despite her determination to make this the last day Emma would spend with her, or maybe just because of it, Regina had decided she would make the most of it. A parting gift of sorts, a goodbye that would hopefully serve to put a full stop to it all, entanglement and _feelings_ included. 

Which was why she stood in front of the green door at eight in the morning, a violet plume casually balancing a tray laden with breakfast, and knocked. No answer, she knocked again. Still nothing.

"Look who's turned into an early bird," an amused voice suddenly came from behind, and Regina whirled around, almost knocking over the mug with steaming cocoa in the process. 

"Emma!" She exclaimed. Of course; there she was, fully-clothed and smelling of hay. Her head tilted curiously as she examined Regina's get up. A tongue came out to moisten lips Regina had reprimanded herself she wasn't to look at, and green eyes softened gradually the more she took in. Although Emma had spoiled Regina’s surprise, embarrassed her in front of the guards patrolling the corridor, and was wearing a too big shirt that made Regina look seriously overdressed in comparison, the queen simply couldn't find it in herself to frown. 

"Happy birthday," she simply said, and didn't look away, even though Emma was observing her affectionately enough to make Regina's stomach churn with nausea. _This will all be over soon_, she told herself, _just one more day and Emma will be gone forever_.

"You remembered," Emma breathed and looked as if she wanted to hug Regina but didn't dare. Her gaze seemed to lock Regina in place, freeze her into a statue of rigid posture and a non-existent smile, until Regina shrugged forcefully and the spell was broken.

"I watched seventeen disasters over the years," she said, and Emma half-smiled, her eyes still glued to Regina, something unreadable in them that made Regina squirm. "It would be a shame if I couldn't top a horde of half-growns."

That seemed to make Emma snap out of it. She smirked. "Well, at least the dwarves always managed to get up on time."

"That was before you overcame your adolescent phase and started to get up in the middle of the night. Have you seen the clock?"

Emma laughed, then brushed past Regina to open the door. "Aww come on, don't be ratty now. Let's have breakfast instead."

"I don't really do breakfast in bed," Regina held up a hand when Emma attempted to pull her towards the four-poster. "I thought I would just leave you to it and..." _get some fresh air before I do something stupid like __let you__ stay after all_, she wanted to add, but Emma had already cut her off.

"Nonsense," she said briskly. "You're staying," and with that, she hooked a finger into the bow on Regina's dress, and the queen had no choice but to follow if she didn’t want to end up half-exposed in front of Emma. _Just one more day_…

…and what a day it was. Emma called the shots after she'd found out that Regina was willing to go with her wishes - "as long as they don't include plain idiocies. And no, I will not let you shoot an apple upon my head, that is the definition of plain idiocy" - and Regina growing more and more anxious about what was yet to come, the closer evening approached. Emma had dared her to an archery duel, no magic allowed, that Regina lost so astoundingly that she almost didn't mind the thought of never seeing Emma again. They followed it with a walk in the forest that made her reminisce of the old times, and wonder if she really was making the right decision; only to be painfully reminded of its necessity when they paused at a clearing. Emma neglected scaling a tree for once, instead carefully leaning her head on Regina's shoulder, a tentative vulnerability in her eyes that made Regina's heart skip a beat. No, for her own good, and for Emma's too, _this_ had to end.

Sooner than she had anticipated, the sun began to sink lower on the horizon, yellow bleeding into the edges of the deep blue summer sky, and she knew it was time.

Regina cleared her throat, trying to get rid of the lump forming in it with every step they approached the dining table. Emma was practically floating now; freshly bathed, her hair glowed like spun gold, spilling down her back almost to her waist now, her waistcoat crimson over a plain shirt, fitted trousers and riding boots that shone with polish. However, nothing of the glimmer could compete with the blinding smile she gave Regina, her hand gently brushing against the queen's as they took their seats; Regina at the head and Emma next to her like always. _One last time_.

"How did you enjoy today?" Regina's first attempt at normal conversation rang out. Her voice sounded strained, stiff like her poise when Emma's foot accidentally touched her leg. One last time, she told herself, you will keep your act together. And she looked up to meet Emma's eyes, only to see the girl - woman now - watch her open mouthed. "What?"

"Are you kidding?!" Emma exploded, and Regina was momentarily taken aback before she realized the blonde was laughing. "This was the best day of my life, cut yourself some slack." She jokingly slapped Regina's shoulder, except it ended up being more of a caress than a slap, a gentle stroke that set Regina's nerves on fire. She hurriedly leaned back, plastering a smug smile on her lips.

"As much as I hate to admit it, you're probably right. I, Regina Mills, have just singlehandedly organized the best day of your life. And…" she cut off Emma's protest with a wave of her hand, "…the best part is yet to come. Your birthday present."

"Okay, now you're joking, right?"

"You think so? Well, I guess I will keep it for myself then..."

It was hilarious, how fast Emma's sceptical face turned into a mask of sheer terror. In other circumstances, Regina would have laughed. Instead she felt close to crying when Emma shook her head; "What, no!" _One last time_, she thought, and allowed herself to let her eyes travel over Emma's complexion, taking it all in; mapping it out, all the lines and colours; the dips and rises; the way her pupils were wide in the dim light, and her mouth matching; her eyebrows knitted together, her brow wrinkled. The way colour bloomed in her cheeks and the fire in her eyes as she refused to duck under Regina's burning gaze, as she rose to the challenge until Regina backed down and blinked.

"My present for you," she began, the words scratching in her throat, "is a secret. But not one of mine. It's a secret of yours."

Silence. Then a gasp, too loud in Regina's ears, and she knew Emma understood.

"You mean..."

Regina nodded, not able to meet Emma's eyes. Her fingers trembled slightly, a wisp of purple escaping her palm and staining the tablecloth, as she swallowed down her treacherous emotions. _One last time_.

"You were sixteen when you asked me about your heritage, wanted me to play my sprite connections and find out about your parents. The truth is," at that she finally looked up, meeting Emma's eyes, expectant, longing, soft, unsure.

"I already knew them." Widening, disbelieving, confused.

"Everybody does." Narrowing, thinking, surprised.

"Because your parents are Queen Snow and Prince David of White." Shock.

"You're a princess, Emma."

A long pause ensued. Regina held her breath. Emma closed her eyes. When she opened them again, the troubled emotions had given way to a stoic look, hard and lustreless.

"So it was me then."

"You?" Regina echoed, "What do you mean?"

Emma shrugged, a harsh set in her shoulders, half-braced as if daring the world to hit her. "When I was small I always pictured my parents as poor villagers, a couple who could barely make ends meet without an infant to take care off. I thought, maybe that was why they sent me away." She bit her lip. "I knew it was stupid. Royalty, huh." A bitter laugh escaped her, sharp-edged like mirror shards, and it cut right through Regina.

This was what Regina had always wanted; to destroy a family, to rob Snow White of her loved one. A daughter who hated her, was there any revenge more perfect than this? 

But things had changed since Regina had cast her curse. The Evil Queen had rediscovered her heart, that blackish knot that was constantly giving her a hard time these days, pulsing poison through her veins with every painful throb. It _felt_ with Emma, felt the rejection, the betrayal, the anger that was hiding a deeper grief. 

The connection frightened Regina. For years and years she'd only ever cared about revenge, how to achieve it, when to achieve it, that was all she'd had on her mind. Anger had ruled her actions, pain fuelled her magic, and the raging fire of both had kept her safe. She couldn't, _wouldn't,_ give that up, especially not a mere two years before her ultimate victory would finally unravel. Fate had determined her priorities, taking away her shot at happiness and providing her with the means to revenge. She was in no place to reconsider, not with a flower marking her victim, not when thinking about Emma felt like slicing her chest open.

Which meant that she, the Evil Queen, sworn enemy of Snow White, actually had to defend the other woman. To make Emma leave and take the pain with her. She forced her mouth open. 

"They had no choice." She could hear the lie in her voice and knew Emma would notice too. _Focus Regina, how had Snow White reasoned eighteen years ago?_ "There was a threat to the family. They sent you away to save you. They wanted to give you your best chance. They..." She took a deep breath. "They love you."

For a millisecond, Emma's mask split, a crack in her expression that revealed a screaming pain, the kind of ache that cut bone-deep, a wound that would never heal. Regina began to feel sick.

Silence fell over them, an awkward stillness that burned in Regina’s throat. She didn't know what else to say though, it all depended on how Emma reacted to the news. She tried not to watch the blonde too closely, knowing that Emma wouldn't want her to observe the tangle of emotion playing out on her usually so guarded face. Pride hunted contempt, followed misery, blended into confusion, became hope, only to be crushed into scorn again, and Regina began to regret bringing the topic up at all. She had underestimated the effect it would have on Emma, had underestimated Emma too when she'd believed the girl would forgive so easily. Poor judgement usually wasn't Regina's style, and yet when it came to Emma… Emma, who she really should know best of all... 

Emma took a sharp breath, causing Regina to look up. She didn't know how much time had passed, it could have been hours or just seconds, but Emma's eyes had cleared, the battered expression in them gone. In the light of the dying candles - so it had been a while - they almost looked soft.

"You don't have to defend _them_ for my sake, you know," Emma said, moving forward to take Regina's hand in hers. "It's not your fault they abandoned me." Regina suppressed a hysterical laughter. How much wine had she had? She was still nursing her first glass, but maybe she had caught something during the day? She really began feeling unwell. Her eyes wandered to the lyon flower.

"It's the White emblem," she explained when Emma’s gaze was following hers. Regina tried not to think of how wrong things were going. How the soft hand in hers soothed her and upset her at the same time. How her priorities were blurring before her eyes when she looked at the woman in front of her. _One last time_, she told herself sternly, it has to end now. "It is a symbol of your parents' love."

But Emma wasn't listening - _why __is__n't she listening_ \- she was tracing circles on Regina's hand, how very distracting. Revenge came first, Regina reminded herself even as a shiver ran through her body and she couldn't seem to look away from the tattoo.

"Hey," Emma said, very softly, "It might not exactly seem that way, but I'm grateful you told me about my parents. I mean, they suck, but at least I know that now." 

Regina made the mistake to look up. Emma was close enough to count the points of her eyelashes in the shadows they left on her cheek. She didn't meet Regina's eyes, instead focused on the queen's hand, smiling quietly to herself when uncontrolled magic began to tint the palm purple, as Regina's heart began to race.

"My uncertain origin has always bothered me," Emma murmured, "and telling me about it, well. It's the best present you could have given me." The shadows on her cheeks fluttered and shrank as she looked up.

_Revenge_, Regina thought weakly, and _oh how horribly wrong this __is__ going_, even as Emma's hand slowly moved up to cup her face. The touch was tentative, timid in a way that contradicted both Emma and Regina, like a dancer balancing on a high rope between two bonfires. Also, like a dancer, it moved in perfect pace, from eyebrow to temple to ear and the back of Regina's head, never falling, only applying a slight pressure, encouraging her gently in the right direction and then Regina's nose nudged Emma's, and their lips met.

_Oh_, was all Regina had time to think, no revenge or other priorities finding space in her mind as she sank into Emma. Warm, soft lips, skin smelling of vanilla soap and soft curls teasing her fingertips that had somehow sneaked into Emma's hair without Regina noticing. All that pain, the poison in her blood and the nausea, it all eased away when she returned Emma’s kiss. All the confusion and heartache, the sleepless nights and the emptiness, fading before her.

“Oh.”

She said it out loud when they broke apart, each a little breathless and flushed, and Emma's hair tinted purple at one side.

"Sorry," Regina said, waving a shaky hand at the colour, "I might have..." She broke off. _Oh._ For Emma looked like her mother on her infant daughter’s name giving ceremony, magic sprinkled all over her, and it hit Regina suddenly what she had just done, kissing the daughter of her nemesis; the marked princess. The one who was supposed to leave today before matters got even more complicated. She'd kissed Emma and now she couldn't stop thinking about it, the touch still clinging to her lips, the taste, the smell, the feeling. The absence of feeling too, no pain, no heartache, no _thinking_ and already she longed back to it. _Revenge, _said her head, but it was very feeble now, compared to the full-detailed replay of the kiss. 

"I'm sorry too," came the very quiet voice from Emma, snapping Regina out of her thoughts. The girl wasn't meeting her eyes, playing nervously with a violet strand of her hair. "I shouldn't have done that."

Regina swallowed. For a heart that hadn't lived in more than thirty years, hers was certainly keeping up a good pace. "Maybe not," she whispered, her voice hoarser than she would have expected, "though it did make for a good-bye to remember." 

Emma's head snapped up. "Good bye?" She asked disbelievingly. Her fingers twitched and Regina only now became aware that she was still holding Emma's hand. She swallowed again. She couldn't believe what she was going to say now. _Revenge_, her brain growled, _priorities_, but for once Regina didn't listen. She looked up with a smirk.

"Unless you’re going to pass up on the White castle, princess?"

Which earned her a slap on the arm and a sigh of relief from Emma. "You thought I would go back to the people who abandoned me?" She asked in a tone that made it very clear that she hadn't even considered it. 

"To be honest, I did," Regina conceded, her fingers entwined with Emma's, finding courage in them. Then she put into words what her heart had been crying out loud for some time now; "but I'm glad you’re not.” 

* * *

Of course Regina's conflicts didn't stop all that easily. In fact, she regretted not fighting harder to send Emma away almost every day. It happened mostly in the mornings, when she woke up to find her sheets speckled purple from dreams she could no longer remember, her hands tingling with unfocused energy. It had been years since she'd worked magic unintentionally, since she'd allowed her emotion to get so out of control, and she would lie in bed, wishing she'd gone through with her original plan. 

Those moods usually lasted until breakfast, sometimes earlier, if Emma decided to pay her a visit in her room beforehand. The blonde would knock, then push down the handle before Regina had a chance to respond, her face peeking around the door with always the same mixture of disbelief and hope on it.

"Is this a bad time?" She would say and Regina would answer; "Always," even as a part of her thought _never_ in a way that was entirely too unsuitable to admit out loud. After her answer had almost scared Emma off again the first time - almost because when Emma had turned around, the beginnings of a protest escaped Regina before she could control herself, making Emma freeze and look over a shoulder with a smirk - the blonde had now learned to see right through Regina's pretence. She would tiptoe over the cold floor, to awkwardly stand beside the bed until Regina shuffled aside with an annoyed sigh that trailed off into a smile. 

Emma's feet were always icy, freezing the smile right off Regina's face.

"Damn it, Emma," she would swear, causing the blonde to laugh and press her toes even harder into the hollow of Regina's knees and it was by then at the latest, that the doubts of the night were forgotten.

It was one of those mornings, the two of them emerging from Regina's chambers at past eleven, ignoring the secret glances the maids cleaning the corridor exchanged. Regina looked impeccable as always, hair tied back into an intricate braid, dress tightly fitted, the scent of magic still clinging to her skin; whereas Emma was still in her pyjamas, her curls a mess. For the record, they had already been when she'd entered the room, not that anybody dared ask.

"So, what are we doing today?" Emma asked, interrupting Regina's thoughts. Her fingers were toying with the rim of her sleep shirt, the action revealing an entirely distracting stretch of skin. 

"Well, you should change," Regina said, rolling her eyes when Emma smirked. 

"See something you- "

"I suggest you don't finish that sentence," Regina interrupted, averting her eyes before she could do something ill-advised. Like pin Emma against the green door and - 

"See you at breakfast," she hurried to say, painfully aware of the strain in her voice. Emma breathed out a laugh, or maybe it was a sigh, Regina was not quite sure with her blood pounding in her ears, but then the girl's stomach growled loudly and she vanished into her room without another word. The maids were still staring. Regina coloured.

"And what are you looking at?"

"Hey, no need to take it out on the maids," came Emma's voice from behind the door and then, when Regina failed to come up with a reply in time, Emma's head popped out once more.

"Don't worry," she told the maids with a cheeky smirk, "she's all bark and no bite."

A snap of fingers and the door closed, Emma withdrawing her head just in time. "Time to hush now," Regina called sweetly through the wood, then turned towards the maids who had watched the whole exchange wide-eyed.

"Give her the scratchy bedlinen next time." And, aware that this would top the mansion's gossip charts for weeks to come, she winked at them before she sauntered down the stairs to have breakfast.

* * *

Regina's plan - though it was a long stretch to even call it that - backfired completely. The linens were changed two days later, on a Thursday as was customary at Mills Mansion, had always been since Cora had learned that it was habitual for royalty to have their sheets changed biweekly and didn't tolerate to be inferior to those standards in any way. Now, in those two days, Regina had completely forgotten about the incident in the corridor, and therefore didn't think twice about it when Emma paid her an evening visit.

"Is this a bad time?" The blonde asked, then blushed furiously when she noticed that Regina was already in her nightgown, the summer version, which really didn't cover all that much.

"Always," Regina followed through with the routine, although she couldn't quite suppress a smirk. "Also, my face is up here."

Emma's eyes snapped up. "Right." She sounded choked. 

"What brings you here, Emma?" Regina asked, putting a special emphasis on the m's. She could have sworn Emma's eyes would drop again at that, but although the blonde's gaze wavered, it stuck to her eyes. Regina raised an impressed eyebrow, even as she turned away to sit down on her bed.

"Oh, I don't know, I just felt like a late night talk," Emma replied, a tad too innocently maybe, moving Regina to look up sharply. 

"Right..."

Emma just shrugged, then tiptoed over to the bed and slid under the covers. "Come on, Regina."

Regina rolled her eyes, but got under the blanket too. No matter how hot the days, summer nights were chilly in the north. "To make one thing clear," she said warningly, "You won't be sleeping here tonight."

"Hmm," Emma hummed non-committal, shuffling closer to Regina. Her fingers brushed Regina's thigh, sending shivers like flashes through the queen's nerves. Regina took a steadying breath, but Emma's hand had already moved on, now resting lightly on Regina's abdomen, rising and falling in tact with it. 

"So," Regina said, and at least her voice didn't tremble as much as she'd feared, "Let's... talk."

"Hmm," Emma made again, her eyelids fluttering shut. She inhaled deeply, and a smile spread on her face. "Your covers smell of magic," she murmured, "and they are so much less scratchy than mine." Before Regina could catch up with the meaning of that, Emma had fallen asleep.

"Damn you, dwarf girl," Regina swore under her breath, absently pushing a blond curl behind Emma's ear. She remembered situations like this from their travelling period: Emma could practically fall asleep anywhere, be it a rock, leaned against a tree, spread out on a mossy mattress with twigs sticking up, that made it impossible for Regina to catch a good night's sleep. Emma would go from talking to as good as dead in the matter of seconds. Back then, Regina had laughed about the irony of it, wondered if maybe the flower tattoo had something to do with it, sending out drops of its poison already. Now it made her heart clench, effectively ousting the mild annoyance she'd felt at Emma's trick. 

She swallowed to get rid of the bitter tang of guilt in her mouth and turned out the light with a snap, carefully sliding deeper under the covers. The moon shone softly through the gap between the drapes, tinting Emma's hair a lovely silver, her skin a creamy white. Emma's hand twitched, rustling the silk of Regina's gown, and the queen had to swallow again, before she slowly but determinedly removed the girl's fingers from her abdomen and shuffled back. Emma's distinct aroma was intoxicating, the sound of her breathing soothing, her mere presence pleasant - but it had been a while since Regina had shared a bed with anyone and she wasn't sure she could make it through a whole night with Emma's body practically pressed up against hers.

Regina woke to the smell of magic, penetrating enough to register even with her, although she usually couldn't sense it, and Emma's fingers entwined with hers. No other part of their bodies was touching, just their hands, linked like they so often were these days. Somehow it had fuelled Regina's magic enough to cover both their arms and the blanket beneath them in purple swirls. Regina blinked away the last dregs of sleep and looked again. No doubt, the purple was leaked magic, and now that she focused, she could feel the energy crackling in the pit of her stomach, ancient power that sent sparks through her body and hands. 

"This is new, huh?" Emma whispered, and Regina did only now notice that the blonde was awake, peeking up at her through thick lashes. "I didn't want to pull away, in case that would break the connection somehow," she admitted, smiling softly. "Plus, I like the tingling." 

"You can feel it," Regina murmured, feeling more than a little confused, but apart from that very well-rested. "That's odd."

"Odd doesn't have to mean bad," Emma retorted, squeezing Regina's hand slightly, sending a jolt through her body.

"True," Regina breathed, her gaze dropping to Emma's lips on their own accord. They shone pink amidst all the purple, and she couldn't have looked away if she'd wanted to. Emma smiled again, and Regina's eyes followed the curve, the upturn that was somehow always a downturn too, as if the corners of Emma's mouth didn't know how to be happy. 

"Will you kiss me now or not," Emma said and Regina arched an eyebrow.

"So bossy," she drawled, but leaned in nonetheless. They kissed slowly, soft pecks that were still full of awe, savouring the simple touch and closeness. They parted time after time to catch their breath, only to be drawn in again, tumbling into each other like drunkards after a night at the tavern. Regina felt inebriated too, her heart light like never before, numb to pain and aflame with an energy that ran purple through her blood, filling her with exotic magic, strange and uncontrolled. Tendrils of smoke escaped her hands, tangling in Emma's curls and brushing over her face in surrogate caresses Regina wasn't yet comfortable giving. Emma inhaled one by accident and sneezed, laughing quietly at Regina's horrified expression.

"I told you, your magic tingles..."

"You had it planned out all along, am I right?" Regina asked much later, after breakfast. "You found out about the scratchy linen and decided to worm your way into my bed."

Emma smirked. "Well, you did have it coming. I mean, who gives secret orders to the maids when I'm right there, behind the door, right?"

"I can't believe it," Regina muttered. "Eavesdropping on your benefactor! Tomorrow night I won't be so indulgent."

But she didn't really believe it herself either.

From then on, Regina got regular visits in the evening. The first times it happened, she tried to protest, half-hearted attempts to send Emma away, which weren't particularly successful. Emma would come up with a distracting question, or pout and say "Just one good-night kiss?" and before Regina had the time to think twice about it, the blonde had slipped into bed and wasn't to be moved again. Or well, Regina _could_ have transported her back to the green chamber with a snap of her fingers - but it wasn't really worth the effort. Besides, and she smiled quietly to herself after she'd made sure Emma's eyes were closed, she could almost get used to the vanilla scent deriving from the halo of curls on the pillow next to hers; and the gentle hand resting on her stomach wasn't altogether unpleasant either, though she still removed it evening after evening. Morning after morning she would wake up in a plume of violet, tightly holding onto Emma's hand, the blonde already smiling down at her.

Except that after only one week, it wasn't only their fingers that entwined while they were asleep, but Emma's toes would sneak into the space between Regina's calves, which seemed to be the only thing keeping them warm. The week after that, Regina awoke with her nose inches away from Emma's neck, breathing softly into the small hollow just where the shoulder began. By the end of the month, Regina slept tucked into the curl of Emma's body, her knees folded against the taller woman's thighs, and when they stood up, the purple formed a heart shape. They took one look at it, then avoided each other's eyes for the remainder of the day. Still, Emma returned for the night. Still, they ended up in each other’s arms. The evening after, Regina didn't push the hand off her abdomen, and Emma smiled in her sleep.

* * *

Summer was already coming to an end, the last hot days exhaling humid air on the dark forests of the north, when Emma picked up the topic of her parents again. 

"I've been thinking," she said, lying on her back underneath a birch tree on the edges of the garden, turning her head to look up at Regina who sat next to her. "I've been thinking about the White royals." 

Regina guessed it shouldn't have come as a surprise that Emma refused to acknowledge her relation with Snow and the Prince, still she blinked twice before she tilted her head. "What about them?"

"You see, I was wondering about this threat you told me about. The danger, that forced them," she made quotation marks with her hands at that, "to give me away."

"... Hmm?" Regina inquired. Emma shot a calculating look.

"Well, if they really loved me as you claimed they did," Emma narrowed her eyes. Regina did her best to nod lightly. There was the lyon flower to credit for at least Snow White's unwavering feelings, although something in Regina had always revolted against her enemy's reasoning that sending away her infant daughter _with dwarves_ somehow proved her endless love. 

"If they did love me," Emma continued, "and they did because you didn't lie to me, then they would have made sure that I was under apt supervision, right?"

"I suppose?" Regina said, though she wouldn't have chosen that particular word to describe seven pygmies. Indeed, Emma seemed to share her doubts, because she nodded.

"It can't be the dwarves, obviously. But who does that leave, huh? Who watched me throughout childhood, took care of me if needed, gave advice and eventually guidance?" She grinned broadly at Regina.

And Regina understood. She began shaking her head vigorously, while Emma was nodding and laughing.

"Come on, you can tell me. I understood why you wouldn't admit it before, given that I didn't know about my origin and all. But now you can talk freely. I won't think any less of you for being directly involved with the Whites."

"Emma," Regina said, and then again, "Emma," when she wouldn't listen. "You're wrong, your parents didn't _hire_ me." She pronounced it with such disgust that Emma was forced to look up, confusion clouding her eyes.

"You can tell me Regina," she insisted, "just be honest with me."

"Emma," Regina sighed, gently taking the blonde's hand in hers. "I am being honest. Your parents didn't ask me to watch over you. They would never, and even if they did, I would always decline, and that is the truth."

Emma searched her eyes for the sign of a lie, scrutinized every inch of her face, until finally she sagged. "Oh. I see. Should have guessed they wouldn't go through the trouble."

"No, it's not that," Regina hurried to say, distantly aware that she was talking herself into a tight spot, but Emma's crestfallen expression made the words tumble out nonetheless. "Your parents would surely have liked to have someone with my powers at their side. I mean, my magic is quite remarkable." At that, Emma smiled a bit. "But..." Regina hesitated. Emma's gaze lifted, as did a curious eyebrow. Regina shrugged off her worries and continued. "Remember the girl I told you about? The one on the horse, who I saved?"

"Yes..."

"That," Regina took a deep breath and prayed she wouldn't regret this, "was Snow White."

Emma gasped loud enough to let her sadness fall right off her face. At Regina's amused side glance, she coloured slightly, but still looked at Regina in disbelief. 

"Wait, are you saying that _Snow White_ told your secret? Destroyed your happiness?"

Regina affirmed. Emma sat up. "And that's why you wouldn't have taken her offer, even if she'd made it? Because she betrayed you."

"Believe it or not but your mother and I don't get along well." Which might just have been the understatement of the century. Regina's eyes trailed to Emma's tattoo.

"I bet," Emma said, chuckling quietly to herself. "Hey, is that why you are so close to the Black Queen?"

"Queen?" Regina echoed, and looked away just in time to avoid Emma's searching glance at that reply.

"Oh, you know, the Black Queen you told me about, who was in a feud with White too." Emma's tone was light but her eyes scorching as they burned a trail down Regina's cheek. "The Black Queen, who you knew so much about."

It was all Regina could do to keep the red from tinting her skin. "Ah yes, my friend," she said carefully, still not looking at Emma, "You are right, we originally bonded over our mutual hatred for Snow White. There is more to our friendship though, she and I have a lot in common."

"I bet you have," Emma murmured, but didn't pry more, a sensible move that Regina was grateful for.

"For the record," she said after a long while, brushing Emma's hair behind her ear, "I find you far more tolerable than your mother." 

"Comforting." Emma rolled her eyes but shuffled closer nonetheless. Then, after a pause, very quietly: "Am I anything like her?"

"Fortunately not," Regina replied like a shot, and Emma hid a smile by smuggling into the crook of her neck. "For one, she has black hair, blue eyes like an attempt to feign innocence," Emma chuckled, a vibrating sound that sent shivers through Regina's body. It made it easier to talk about Snow White, the laughing, and Regina trailed her finger down Emma's side to the spot where she knew the blonde was awfully ticklish. "She's smaller too, fitting right in with the dwarves," she attacked, and Emma shrieked and clawed at Regina's hands, "and her voice is disgustingly dainty, not at all like yours." "Stop, Regina, please stop," Emma was begging, squirming under Regina's relentless fingers that dug once more into Emma's side before stilling. "But there is one terrible, terrible, habit you've inherited from her." 

"Which one?" Emma asked breathlessly, tears of laughter still glittering in her eyes.

Regina smirked and tapped Emma's lip with her index finger; "you're both stupid enough to talk to animals as if they were humans."


	11. in which a queen is revealed as such

Emma's constant sleepovers in Regina's bedroom came with one quite big problem. It wasn't the purple stains, which could be bleached out by a well-aimed flash of magic; it wasn't the perpetual longing for more, manifesting in the pit of her stomach and between her legs, when she woke to the feel of skin on skin, and Emma's hot breath against the top of her head… or well, yes, that was quite a large problem too_,_ one that intensified with every day that Emma trailed a tentative finger across her collarbones, the hollow of her neck, her ribcage, eventually her hipbones, her lower abdomen, but so far always withdrawing with a flushed expression and turning away. 

But the problem that Regina was really wrecking her head over, day after day as Emma kissed her good morning and vanished into her room to change, only to tap at Regina's door minutes later to pick her up for breakfast, the real problem was Regina's growing neglect for her royal duties. It had been weeks since she'd held one of her morning conferences, and while she trusted her ministers with ruling her country in peaceful times, conflicts were a whole different matter. 

Six years after the war, the kingdoms found themselves in a delicate balance once more. Rumours of treason were getting out, Golden spies that had been found at the White court and Regina's generals suspected infiltration in Black too. Mistrust prevailed in the castle, and Regina grew more and more restless at the brief notices her advisors sent her, snippets of discussions, contrasting reports on atmosphere and opinions in meetings. _All under control, suspects identified and kept under strict surveillance,_ said one letter, then the next day the same minister wrote _safety hazard, requesting immediate conference with HM the Queen_, a wish Regina could only grant the following day when Emma had gone out for a ride, at which point everything had changed again and her minister assured her that whatever state papers had gone missing the other day were in safe hands again. 

"His Royal Highness Prince Neal has announced a visit," she was informed a week later, the minister in question sweating profoundly under Regina's darkening stare. "He requested a meeting. I told him you were unavailable but he insisted on coming. Declining him would present a gross violation of - "

"I know what it would mean," Regina interrupted harshly, throwing a side glance at another mirror to check that Emma was still occupied with her duel. Unfortunately, Robert - who she'd freed of his extra duties after Emma had complained that he was the only guard still willing to fight her - was losing rapidly, and Regina was running out of time. 

"Send him to the mirror in the gallery at twelve on Monday," she told her minister as Emma disarmed Robert, "I'll try to make it."

"I would urgently advise you to - " the man began, but Regina cut him off with a raised hand, frowning at Robert, who was throwing Emma a suggestive smile. Regina wiped the image of her minister away, then turned the volume up on the second mirror.

"-take you for a drink?" Robert was saying, grinning when Emma replied with a flat: "No". 

"I see, you're worried about Regina. She's taken quite a shine to you, but she doesn't have to know about it, right?"

Regina materialized in a purple plume so close to Emma that the blonde had to cough at the smoke. An icy smile decorated the queen's face, whereas Robert’s grin faltered when Regina curled a casual hand around Emma's waist.

"I believe Emma said _no_." She raised her other hand. Robert stumbled back before she even had the chance to perform magic, tripping over his own sword on the floor as he hurried out of the cellar, murmuring "I'm sorry, please forgive me, I'm sorry your M-" under his breath. Regina turned her hand, cut him right off before the treacherous title could come across his lips, and slammed the door shut after him.

"He should be thankful I can't bear to see his slimy grin any longer," she murmured, taking short sharp breaths through her nose, "or who knows what I'd have done to him."

"Geez, you're in a bad mood," Emma snorted, but her fingers were gentle when they brushed over Regina's hand. It was only then that Regina realized that she was still holding on to Emma's waist, tightly gripping the crimson leather of her waistcoat.

"Yes, well," she said, struggling to unclench her hand and withdraw it. "This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't wanted to duel Robert in the first place." Now that the guard was gone, her annoyance hang aimlessly in the room, a suffocating presence above their heads, before it latched onto Emma, but the blonde wouldn't have it.

"Okay, whoa," she said, holding up her hands. "Look, you're jealous, that's adorable and very flattering, but no reason to get angry. Besides, Robert actually behaved pretty decently, up until the end." She smirked slightly. "He said you had taken a shine to me, and, judging from the way you're frowning, he's right. You like me!"

"Right now I rather hate you," Regina grumbled, glaring at Emma whose grin was only growing.

"You're lying," she said cheerfully. "You're totally into me."

"As if. You're barely tolerable most of the time."

"And yet you like me."

"Do not."

"Lies, lies, lies." Emma laughed. "Oh come one, you can tell me. I will even say it back, okay?"

"Fine," Regina growled, "but only because I know there is no other way you will let this go: I suppose I have a certain amount of positive feelings towards you. Now your turn."

"I l..." Emma began, making a dramatic pause until Regina glowered at her. "L...earned a lot about left-hand fighting today." She grinned cheekily at Regina, whose mouth fell open, her fingers already crackling with magic she intended to use on Emma.

"You promised! Say it!" 

Emma raised her dagger and wriggled her eyebrows challengingly. "Make me."

The fireball came with a flick of her hand as Regina smiled back, a last warning curl of her lips before she attacked. "Gladly." And she hurled the flames at Emma.

The girl dodged to the left, then to the right, elegantly bending out of the line of fire. "What," she taunted, not even out of breath, "You don't dare duel me without your powers?"

Regina replied by snapping her fingers. Robert’s sword flew into her hand, a flash of silver in the torchlight, that only narrowly missed Emma's head.

"You were saying?"

Emma's eyes darkened a notch. For a split second she seemed to reconsider, a moment during which her gaze darted over Regina's body, taking in the tight dress, the pointed shoes, the crude sword that Regina knew clashed immensely with her style. Then Emma's lips lifted in a fleeting smile, and she attacked.

She was good, it didn't take Regina long to notice as much. All the hours spent in the cellar facing the guards in close combat had paid off - Emma fought intently, channelling her force into a pattern of precise blows that quickly managed to push Regina into a corner of the room. Her blows came fast and they came hard, and although Regina had done her own share of fencing back in the day when she'd united the small countries in the Black Kingdom, she quickly realized that she couldn't keep on parrying forever. Emma had the physical advantage of youth and recent training, whereas Regina was tiring faster than she would have expected. Already she breathed heavily, a circumstance that wasn't lost on Emma, who sent her a devilish smile and accelerated her rhythm of attack.

A thin crease began to form between Regina's eyebrows. She knew there had to be a flaw in Emma's technique, some kind of weakness she could exploit. But that was the thing, Emma fought seamlessly, by the book, just like the guards of Mills mansion, who had never experienced war like Regina's army had...

Of course. The line on Regina's brow vanished as unobtrusively as it had come; she would have smirked if she hadn't been sure Emma would become suspicious. The girl's technique might be spotless in textbook situations. But she didn't expect her opponent to fight dirty.

The next stroke Emma attempted, Regina didn't block to the side as she'd done before, but held in the air above their heads, her arms shaking under the force of the blow but standing firm. For the briefest of seconds, Emma's gaze flickered up, clearly confused about the change in Regina's defence. When she looked back down again, Regina had already hooked one foot around her ankle and, crashing into Emma's shoulder with the entire weight of her own body, sent them both falling.

Emma immediately let go of her dagger and reached back to break her fall, but while it certainly did her backside a favour, not to mention that Regina was against her will impressed with the girl's reaction time, it also rendered her utterly defenceless to Regina, who landed on top of her with the tip of the sword already pressed to Emma's throat.

"Not fair," Emma protested, just like Regina knew she would. A brilliant smile spread on the Queen's lips, only marred by the frequent puffs of breath as she fought to calm her heart rate.

"Too bad," she drawled, slowly trailing the tip of the sword down Emma's throat before leaning in. "Say it."

* * *

Monday came faster than Regina would have liked. What was worse, she woke up to the patter of rain against the windows and the howling of the first autumn storm. Regina groaned to herself, tempted to just turn over and get back to sleep, but a look at the clock told her that it was already approaching eleven and she had to get up soon if she wanted to make it in time for the meeting with Gold. She groaned again.

"What's with the frowning," Emma asked bemusedly, fresh as a daisy of course, and the next thing Regina knew was a curtain of curls hanging into her face and Emma's inquisitive eyes staring down at her.

"The weather is awful," Regina replied after she'd brushed away the hair. Emma was leaning over her, hands placed on either side of Regina's head as she moved in for a kiss.

"Aww, are you cold?" She murmured against Regina's lips, nipping teasingly at the sensitive skin. Regina hummed affirming, her tongue darting out to brush over Emma's mouth. 

"Well, you are developing an inclination for blanket-hogging," she murmured, Prince Neal slowly but surely gliding into the back of her mind when Emma grinned cheekily.

"So sorry. Let me warm you up though." She hooked one leg over Regina's, sneaked one arm around her waist... Although Emma's limbs were actually pretty cold themselves, Regina felt her body heat up. 

"Just give me the blanket," she protested weakly, and Emma laughed but reached behind her for the covers and, rolling onto Regina, pulled them over both of them. Except that now, Regina wasn't cold anymore, she was burning up. Emma's entire body was pressed against hers, firm muscles and soft skin and a thunderous heartbeat that could belong to either of them or both at once. When Emma inhaled, Regina felt it in her chest too, and when she exhaled she sank into Regina's lips and oh, what a kiss, fiery and ravishing and beneath the hunger still gentle. Regina's hands began to wander, from Emma's face to her hair and then down her back, jumping over protruding shoulder blades, climbing down each vertebra like a ladder, and when she lost count of them, she flipped Emma over and now she was on top. The blanket had slipped away, a crumpled heap beneath them, to which neither of them paid a second thought as Regina pinned Emma down on top of it, and Emma's back arched to be closer still, their breaths growing more ragged with every kiss. Regina’s nightgown had hitched up, leaving an expanse of smooth skin for Emma to sink her nails in, while Regina’s own fingers crept under Emma’s shirt, the touch teasing and playful at first, less so when Emma started wriggling beneath her, clearly craving more.

And Regina was prepared to give in, felt her hands move higher, a spark of magic igniting with every inch she covered, felt her heart skip a beat… when the grandfather clock in the corridor struck eleven. It was a miracle Regina even heard it, through the delicious gasps she elicited from Emma as she kissed down her throat, biting and sucking, but eleven strikes were many and Regina eventually heard the chimes loud and clear. 

The thought of the meeting forced itself back into her mind. An hour barely sufficed to get prepared, to make sure she looked presentable, imposing and dangerous. For a moment Regina considered blowing the call off, but the consequences of that could prove fatal; implying weakness and unreliability. Besides, she couldn't afford making enemies in both neighbouring kingdoms.

So with a deep sigh and a last lingering kiss, Regina drew back. Emma's eyes popped open, dark and confused, and Regina's core throbbed in response to the unmistakable need in Emma's gaze. Oh, how she hated the Crown Prince at that moment.

"I..." she began, her voice raspy. “We can't do... this now. It's... poor timing, I have this thing." Geez, her head was swimming, and she shakily climbed off Emma. Without having to look down, she knew that Emma's entire pyjamas were dyed purple. 

"O-kay?" Emma said, but it wasn't. Her eyes took on that guarded look, the careful barrier she put between them so that Regina wouldn't see the old fear of rejection resurface. "What thing?"

But Regina couldn't tell her, and so she just shrugged, watching helplessly how the abyss between them widened instantly. Emma ran a hand through her dishevelled hair.

"Right. I'll leave then..."

Regina heard the strain in her tone and knew that Emma was fighting not to let her voice break. It wasn't about the interruption anymore, but it had now become a matter of trust. That old hot topic that would always prove a fighting issue, and Regina _knew_ what Emma wanted her to say, but she couldn't, not with the clock ticking mercilessly and the future of her kingdom on the line. She couldn't be that selfish, and so she accepted Emma's wrath and let her go.

The door slammed shut after the girl and for a minute or two, Regina just sat in bed and massaged her temples. Then she waved her hand to clean up the violet and headed for the bathroom.

Prince Neal was already waiting when she performed the spell to turn both their mirrors into an image of the other. His brown curls looked sleek and somehow slimy, just like the inevitable grin plastered on his mouth, and Regina's stomach revolted against the nonchalant look he was observing her with.

"Regina, how kind of you to see me," he defied etiquette and started the conversation. Regina barely refrained from baring her teeth. Her patience ran low already, but she couldn't afford to let her distraction show.

"Neal," she acknowledged his presence, as well as his obtrusive choice to avoid titles. "I have been told you seek an audience?"

Neal smiled and nodded. Regina narrowed her eyes - that particular look seemed familiar somehow, the brush of conceit in the lift of the Prince's lips a hint of someone else - but as quick as it had come, the resemblance was gone and Neal was just a boyish young man again, playing sovereign.

"I have been meaning to speak to you for some time now, but you always seem to be off-site." There was a lilt like a question in his words and Regina inclined her head.

"Oh you know how it is," she smiled indulgently. "Royalty is in such demand these days, I have had quite a few calls to make."

A shadow crossed over the Prince's brow and Regina congratulated herself. She had apparently managed to make the boy uncomfortable.

"Of course I know," came the eventual reply. "All those nobles, huh?"

"Yes, and the peasants too," Regina continued her little game. "Of course I can only speak for Black, but for my people it doesn't suffice to be a just ruler anymore, they suddenly want to know who they fight for. Of course," she gave a high-pitched laugh, "no fighting will be happening." Neal just stared. 

"I mean," Regina added, "the last war is still prominent in our memory, am I right? We don't want a reiteration of that now, do we?" Her voice had taken on a dangerous edge and the Crown Prince hurried to nod, looking slightly green about the gills. Regina smiled to herself.

"Anyways," she said, "I'm digressing. What was it you wanted to talk about again?"

Neal had apparently forgotten about the reason and the call presently came to an end, rendering Regina the clear victor of the meeting. That's what she tried telling herself anyways, over and over again while she paced up and down in her room, mulling the situation over. She felt like she was missing an important piece of the puzzle, a clue that would reveal a different picture to her. She couldn't help thinking that Prince Neal had something to do with it.

Apart from that, there was the situation with Emma. Regina knew she had an explanation to give, an apology to make, and that rather sooner than later before the girl fell into one of her sulky moods and, in the worst case, tried to run away again. Not that Regina would resent her for it, knowing all too well that the silly excuses she'd made for her actions were fuel for Emma's insecurities. The blonde perceived Regina's secrecy as a personal offense, as much as she tried telling Regina that it was okay to keep some matters to herself - apologizing was the least Regina could do.

So she stood with a sigh, shed the majestic cloak she'd thrown on for the meeting, snapped her fingers to remove some of the make-up she'd applied to amplify her sinister aura, and made her way to the green chamber. To her great surprise, the door was ajar.

"... Emma?" Maybe the girl had gone out, despite the rainstorm Regina saw raging behind the window panes. 

A cheerful "come in" sounded from Emma's room in reply. _Cheerful_?

"Emma, it's me," Regina said, raising a hand to the wood to cautiously push open the door a tad more. Gradually the room was revealed, the wall, the window, the bed, unused and yet perfectly made, finally a chair, on which Emma sat, grinning up at Regina. 

"How did your thing go?" she asked, only the faintest edge to her words betraying the anger she'd displayed before. Regina stared.

"Uh," she eventually made, for once short of words. "It went alright I think, all things considered... Aren't you mad?"

"Because you expertly ravaged me, only to leave me hanging at the last moment?" Emma questioned her pointedly, but apart from traces of regret, Regina could see no hardness in her eyes.

She narrowed her eyes in confusion, but Emma's gaze didn't waver. "And because I sent you away?"

"Oh please," and now Emma actually laughed. "I _left_. Of course, I wouldn't have if you'd just got on with..." she coloured slightly, brandished her hands, "…you know. But in the end, it was my decision. I'm not one of your subj - ," she blushed again, "uh, servants, you know. I'd like to see you try and order _me_ around."

Regina raised an eyebrow, "Is that a challenge, princess?" 

Emma grinned and wagged a warning finger. "Careful now, or you'll make me mad after all. But anyways," she jumped up, "I've waited long enough for you now. Let's have breakfast!"

"More like lunch," Regina corrected, but followed Emma down the stairway. How odd, she thought to herself as she watched Emma's curls bounce in front of her, what could possibly have changed her mind? Or had she been reading Emma all wrong when the girl had left Regina's chambers? No, she'd definitely been upset then, which meant something had occurred while Regina had held her meeting with Neal, an insight of sorts, a realization? Could it be that Emma suspected? There had been a few incidents that might have served to give Regina's identity away, but none of them had been followed by any curious reaction on Emma's part before, so that couldn't be it. Still, she'd better shown particular caution in the future.

* * *

The following weeks, Regina did her best to lie low. Fortunately, the most immediate danger was at bay, the situation at the Golden borders relaxing somewhat after the call. After multiple purges and still no confirmed spy in the Black government, that hysteria gradually subsided as well and Regina only had the regular meetings to hold, a feat that she accomplished quite elegantly by sending Emma to the stables one day.

"You might find something belonging to you there," she had said and Emma had frowned in confusion at first, but studying the promising smile on Regina's face, broke into a grin.

"You didn't!" She had exclaimed. "For real now?"

Regina had only raised an eyebrow, "I don't know what you are even talking about. I simply made sure you worked off your stay here."

"By giving me a horse?" Emma had all but shrieked, because of course that was Regina's masterplan. "Oh, which one is it? Kenny? Dr Popper? Or Duchess?"

"Dr Popper?" Regina had wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Did you come up with those atrocious names or was it the stable boys? Anyways, it is none of them. Did you seriously think I would give you hand-me-downs?"

At which point she'd been rudely cut off by a kiss. 

"All this fuss about a horse," she still finished her sentence, murmuring against Emma's lips, but she did so with a very smug undertone. Emma's excitement helped her feel less guilty about purposely distracting the blonde to keep her away.

Of course, her plan worked out superbly. Emma spent even more time in the stables, and even if she lingered around at inconvenient times, it fully sufficed to mention the new mare, Roni, to send her flying to it. 

In fact, and here Regina allowed herself a bitter chuckle, Emma was almost out _too_ often, leaving their nightly embraces before Regina had even woken up, or right after a morning kiss, when Regina's brain was still fuzzy and overly affectionate. Worth it, she told herself, and anyways, she deserved it for scheming actively against Emma. It still stung though, when she woke up to an empty bed, or came downstairs for a solitary lunch because Emma had used the rare dry day for a ride. Not that she would ever admit it to Emma, but even before the crises had fully died down, before state matters came to a slow for winter, she began missing the princess.

It was one of those morning where Emma had stayed in bed just long enough to wish Regina a good day and press a fleeting kiss to her forehead - which was, by the way, the same way she said hello to Roni, not that Regina had been watching her - before she'd taken off towards her horse. Regina, anything but not pouty, had thus set about her own day of first, a nice hot bath, then breakfast in bed, smiling grimly at the apocalyptic weather outside, and finally settling in to discuss the latest happenings with her council. 

Except that nothing had happened _at all_ and Regina was slowly but surely working up a temper as she listened to a bald minister with a dreadful accent go on and on about security in the castle.

"As I said before, there is no need to take on more guards. My inner sanctum is protected by _magic_. As are the towers, as are the walls, as is the damn courtyard, so actually I have no need for guards at all, how about I fire some. Starting with you."

The men in the mirror exchanged looks. Regina groaned and massaged her temples.

"If I may broach a subject, Your Majesty," another minister spoke up, "there is this matter of your malcontent subjects in the northern regions."

"There have always been malcontent subjects in the North," Regina snarled. "Do any of you actually have _news_?"

Awkward silence. Finally the man Regina had left in charge upon her departure raised his voice. "Not since we've spoken last, Your Majesty. Ever since His Royal Highness the Crown Prince left, Gold has ceased making trouble. White remains passive. As for home affairs -"

But Regina didn't hear about home affairs, because Emma chose that exact moment to enter the room. A small click of the handle was all the warning Regina got, before the door swung open and in stepped the girl, clad in comfortable clothes, her hair damp from either the rain or a bath. Possibly both. 

Regina registered all that in the fraction of a second, but it took her much longer to react. Too long. Emma's eyes swept over the circle of men in the mirror - Regina was using the large one above her desk, instead of the handheld which was prone to blur out the details of facial expressions - and the bunch of papers scattered around, the mostly empty log Regina had been keeping of the day's meeting, all while the queen sat frozen in her chair and her advisor prattled on about home affairs.

"I have to go," Regina interrupted him as soon as she found the mind to do so. "Let's get back to this later." She blanked the mirror before he could say another word. The sudden silence felt deafening.

"Geez, that guy had a horrible accent."

"And you didn’t hear the one before him," Regina replied automatically, then whirled around. "What?"

Emma grinned at her, perching on the edge of Regina's bed. "'Ais foah the taixes oan bread and aile, I sooggest nowt to lowah them ainy furthah, the peasants coold get ideahs' - what a jerk, am I right, Your Majesty?"

Regina's jaw fell open. "You... how... Emma?!"

"How do I know about your fancy title?" Emma's grin widened. "Oh please, I figured that out _weeks_ ago. And, before you get yourself in a tizzy, I don't mind, like, at all."

"You did?" Regina echoed weakly. "You don't?"

"I don't. Actually, we make a pretty good team, the White Princess and the Queen of Black. Except that I'll probably never claim the throne."

"But, when? How?" Regina protested, not quite able to wrap her head around the news yet. Emma knew about her position, she knew about her own parents, she knew about Regina's relationship with them, she knew all of it - except the curse - and she didn't mind? More yet, she'd already known before Regina's slip-up and Regina hadn't even noticed? Did her title really make that little of a difference to Emma? Could it be that easy? 

"It wasn't all that hard to figure out. You hate Snow White, the Queen hates Snow White. You had a mother who strived for perfection, wealth and prestige, the Queen was forced into a marriage with an old king, who coincidentally had a ravishing daughter who then took over the throne. There aren't that many kingdoms to choose from, so connecting the dots was easy. Besides, all those documents you never wanted to show me? The letter I read sounded way too brutal to be about a sale of land. It was about a war, am I right?"

Regina had to admit, she was impressed. Once again, she had underestimated both Emma's constant attention and her wit. She herself had almost forgotten about the incident with the letter, not to mention what she had told Emma about the Queen's history with White.

"What about last month though," she inquired, "When you left the room in anger, but when I came to apologize you brushed the matter off. Did you already know by then?"

For the first time, Emma looked somewhat uncomfortable. "Right," she said, drawing out the ‘i’ sound, "about that. You see, I had my suspicions, and it all seemed to make sense, but I couldn't be completely sure, right? It could have been a major coincidence, and imagine how awkward that would have been. So..." she hesitated, grimacing up at Regina, "…I may or may not have lingered at the door for a while, to get my confirmation that you were, in fact, the Queen."

"You spied on me?" Regina asked, although this shock was one of the smallest today. The irony though, all the fuss about Golden spies, and right here she had a White spy, in her bed. 

"You're the one to talk," Emma said, giving the mirror a pointed look, “but yes, and afterwards I was too delighted I'd been right, to stay mad at you."

That actually drew a light chuckle out of Regina. "Well, aren't you a proud little detective?"

"Says the one who is, what, five feet?" Emma teased, earning her a frown from Regina.

"Why didn't you tell me you knew?" She still had to ask. "Why leave me in the dark?"

"I _could_ ask the same of you," Emma said, "but I suppose I just wanted to see whether or not you'd tell me eventually. And look what I got out of it, a first class mare!"

Which of course led Regina to explode: "You saw through that too?!" 

* * *

With that major secret gone, life got a lot easier for Regina. No more sneaking around, no more hastily cut-off sessions, above all, no more sending Emma away. And the blonde, admitting that she'd partly used Roni to urge Regina into revealing her secret - she almost got banned from Regina's chambers when she let that slip, but after a pleading kiss that turned into a full grown make out session, Regina changed her mind about the punishment - didn't spend every second of her day at the stables anymore. She still adored Roni though.

"She reminds me of you," she affectionately told Regina one day, who couldn't decide whether she should frown or smile. "Very headstrong, stubborn as a mule in fact-”

"Excuse me?" Regina interrupted, settling for a scowl that left Emma remarkably unperturbed.

"- claims to be the total ice queen, but in truth she has a soft spot for me." She finished with a cheeky grin and gave Regina a peck on the nose. "Adorable."

"You did _not_ just compare me to your horse."

"Yup. And I also implied you liked me."

"We settled that already," Regina grumbled, a blush blooming on her cheeks. "But a horse..."

Winter passed in a remarkable rush, the long nights filled with endless talks and hours and hours in bed - the maids' glances were completely justified now and Regina would forever remember the pure look of horror on their faces when Regina and Emma had stumbled out of the room after that first time, the door open just long enough to catch a glimpse of the explosion of purple inside, and Emma had walked up to them, dead serious: "Forget what I said about _no bite_. It turns out she's got plenty of that."

All in all, life was a piece of cake these days and Regina, entirely unaccustomed to happiness like that, found herself stumbling into it like a blind woman sensing the light. Everything could be so perfect, carefree days and passionate nights, Emma's hand in hers always - if it wasn't for the tattoo, pulsing on the girl's wrist as if alive. 

The curse began eating away at Regina, her thoughts drifting to the subject just like her eyes drifted to the flower. She had always known that their days were numbered. Before - before Emma, before questioning matters - Regina had counted down the years until the curse would hit. She had celebrated the day that marked the anniversary of the name giving ceremony like a second birthday, toasting towards the mirror showing the mournful faces of the White family. It had been easy, one goal, one plan to accomplish it, one step towards it with every year passed.

By now she was counting down the months, but at the same time, celebration had given way to a queasy feeling of dread, a quiver of regret as she hastily tore her eyes away from the tattoo.

She hadn't meant to make such a dilemma of her revenge. How could she have known that Emma would win favour with her that easily, catching her in a net of witty charm and sharp humour like a spider caught the unsuspecting fly? How could she have known that Emma would crack her open like an old seashell, certain there had to be a beautiful pearl inside, and then find that pearl somehow? Regina had been astonished to find that she indeed had good left in her, enough to _feel_, affection and happiness as well as guilt and sickness about the knowledge that all this would come to an end. How, for goddamn's sake, could she have known that the curse that had offered a happy ending and a glorious revenge, would blow up in her own face and doom the one person she had come to care for in this world?

Not to mention that Emma didn't deserve any of this. Stunning, healing, oblivious Emma, whose life had been so closely tied to Regina's doing from the very beginning, who had suffered through so much already, everything effects of Regina's curse, only to find a home with her parents' nemesis. It was a whole spiral of guilt, to see the trust in the girl's eyes, affection and belonging, and know that it had been Regina herself, who had robbed her of a home in the first place. 

Yet, selfish though she knew it was, Regina simply couldn't stay away from her. She fed on Emma's attentions like a starved animal, justifying her greed with the glint in the girl's eyes, a bit brighter with every kiss Regina took, every embrace they shared, every pleasure Regina gave. _It's not like I give nothing in return, _Regina would argue with herself, although deep down she knew that Emma's light was like a shooting star, flaring extra bright before it burned out. There simply was no way to make up for a life sacrificed in the name of revenge. There was no way to return what Regina had taken from Emma over eighteen years ago, and that knowledge gradually began to sour every interaction she had with the blonde.

It took her until May, with thirteen months to go until the curse hit, to decide that this wasn't the way to continue, that something had to be done. And even then it needed a catastrophe to act as a catalyst.


	12. in which things fall apart

Little dots of sunshine dappled the thin cover, highlighting the white patches among the purple, making them dance when Regina yanked at the blanket. Emma however, the sly girl, kept it in a tight lock between her knees and under her arms and gave no inch.

"Cold," Regina mumbled, not always the most articulate in the morning, and Emma smiled down at her with the most angelic smile and said: "Excuse me?" 

Regina bared her teeth. "What do you want me to say?"

"How about _Oh Emma, my hero and saviour, would you grace me with thy warmth_?"

"Is that what you dream of at night?" Regina replied, using the moment of distraction on Emma's part to snatch a corner of the blanket and pull. She expected to gain a small triangle of cover - there had been similar situations before, which had always ended in Regina huddling under a tiny bit of the blanket, until Emma had shown mercy. This time however, Emma jumped up as soon as Regina had grabbed the cloth. 

"Actually, you can have it. I wanted to go get dressed anyways." And she left the bedroom without a second glance back. Regina's brow wrinkled.

Emma remained on edge throughout breakfast. Her eyes lingered on Regina's form, then fell away whenever the queen raised her own gaze to meet them. She sat rigidly straight, picking at her porridge like Regina had never witnessed before, tension spelled out all down her arm.

"I can alter the spoons if you want them to have another form, you know," Regina cautiously addressed Emma towards the end of the meal. The blond head flew up.

"Huh?"

Regina nodded towards Emma’s hand, clenching the metal spoon as if her life depended on it. "Since you seem to be unsatisfied with the current design?"

She expected Emma to laugh, roll her eyes, or at least give her a weary smile and say "haha". Instead, she got a frown. "What?"

Regina blinked once, twice in astonishment, then put her own cutlery away. "Emma? Is everything alright?" She mustered the blonde; the faint dark shimmer under her eyes suggested a troublesome night, a silver gleam told her that Emma's guard was alert and up, a nervous bite at her lower lip that Emma felt insecure about something, something that was important to her. Still she nodded, hastily, jerkily as if she had to remind her own head to move.

"Yeah, of course. I'm fine. Just not very hungry." She cast her spoon into the almost full bowl of oatmeal. "I think I'll take Roni for a ride. Maybe I can eat afterwards." And she left, again. The crease between Regina's eyebrows deepened.

The day pretty much continued in that fashion. Emma was absentminded and tense, constantly on the hop to flee joint activities. She interrupted lunch, claiming to have to take a bath as she was smelling of horse, something that had never bothered her before. She skipped tea time and even the walk they had become accustomed to take together in the afternoons, to get some fresh air and mostly talk. Slowly but surely Regina began to worry. This wasn't like Emma, who usually gravitated towards Regina like a moth to the light - and vice versa, if Regina was being honest with herself. If Emma didn't come to dinner, Regina decided, she would seek her out afterwards and have a serious talk. She would do her best not to worry too much until then, get some paperwork done instead. Possibly, though she didn't really believe it herself, it was all nothing anyways, a light virus or a headache, which Regina could easily get rid of for her with the right potion.

Emma came for dinner, and what an entrance she made. For one, she wore a dress, a sober cotton gown that cut high in the front and low in the back, revealing pronounced shoulder blades and a line of vertebrae before the skin was swallowed by blue cloth again. A slim ribbon marked the waist, clearly made to form a bow slightly off-centre, but Emma had used it to bind fast her stolen knife and a quiver of arrows. Regina suppressed a smile at the set-up, it was so undoubtedly Emma, yet with an unfamiliar and undoubtedly exciting element. She wore her hair down, the blond mass of curls framing her face with some stray strands tumbling down her back, emitting the scent that Regina had learned to always associate with Emma, sweet vanilla and underlying musk, and it carried across the room as Emma's eyes settled on Regina. Only a trace of her previous fidgetiness could be seen in the green.

"Hey," she smiled almost shyly, the dress making her look more vulnerable than usual. 

"You're... you look gorgeous tonight," Regina brought out in reply, unable to take her eyes off Emma. "Where...?"

But Emma only smiled and shook her head. "Dinner first, questions later. I'm starving." It was the first normal sentence Regina had heard from her that day.

They ate in almost reversed roles, Emma the glorious lady, calm and collected apart from an occasional flicker in her eyes, a remainder of the insecurity Regina had spotted earlier; Regina the impatient eater, forking her way through course after course, hardly tasting the delicacies in her curiosity what was happening. But Emma let no word slip, not even after they had finished dessert and sat for a while simply looking at each other, taking it all in. Eventually, Regina couldn't take it anymore.

"Will you..." She began and that was about how far she got before Emma rose to her feet, amusement dancing a waltz in her eyes. Its partner was nervousness though, and Regina bit back a sharp comment and took Emma's offered hand, lacing their fingers for silent support.

"I thought we could go for our walk now," Emma said almost timidly and something was definitely up, something that gradually ruled out Regina's curiosity and replaced it with a sinking feeling of dread. She suppressed the comment that she'd already been through the park today, suppressed the questions starting to pile in her head, and concentrated on Emma's hand instead, warm and familiar in hers. Whatever Emma had to tell her, whatever she had planned for the evening, it would be fine or she wouldn't be so calm about it. 

Of course Emma chose that exact moment to twitch, having tripped over the hem of her dress. Regina caught her in the last moment before she could ruin the cerulean dream forever, and Emma swore quietly under her breath. It comforted Regina somewhat, to see that beneath all the fancy up-do there was still Emma, who had learned her curse words from a bunch of dwarves. 

"Not to interrupt," Regina threw in when Emma had regained her balance. "But where exactly are we going?"

"Just up the hill," Emma said distractedly, before she remembered it was all to be a surprise. "You'll see."

Regina gave a non-committal hum but followed Emma up the grassy slope to where a linden tree stood looking out over the forest starting beyond. Emma plopped down to the ground beneath it with a happy sigh, then patted the spot next to her.

"Doesn't this remind you of travelling together?" she asked, but Regina could hear that her mind wasn't really in it, something else was preoccupying her thoughts. Regina sat down.

"Except that we have proper beds and don't have to sleep on pine cones," she replied, mustering Emma closely. "Why did you bring me here?"

Emma bit her lip, still avoiding Regina's eyes. "Oh, I don't know. It's a lovely view, don't you think?"

Regina's eyebrows lifted of their own accord but she supposed she couldn't deny the fact that Emma was right, what with the sun setting in a burst of reds and oranges, casting its last flaming rays over the treetops like a drowning sailor groping for support. "Yes," she said slowly, "It is." She turned her head to find Emma staring at her.

"As are you," she suddenly blurted out, followed by a blush that seemed to compete against the sunset. Regina blinked.

"As am I... lovely?"

"No!" Emma said, "Yes." 

Regina's eyebrows rose an inch higher still. Emma groaned.

"Let me start over," she suddenly pleaded, "this was a horrible introduction."

"Proceed...?" Regina really couldn't figure Emma out today.

The blonde sighed, then closed her eyes for a while. When she opened them, the silver barrier that Regina had worried about earlier was gone, leaving only the clear bright green. Emma took a deep breath. "What I meant to say," she began carefully, trapping Regina in her intent gaze, "was that you are wonderful. Lovely. As is the sunset, which, however, really isn't important for what I meant to tell you. Or, want to tell you. Have to tell you?" She tilted her head questioningly, as if Regina could help her there. 

An awkward pause ensued, but the queen didn't even notice. A horrible thought was starting to form in the back of her head, a notion that swelled and grew, and with it came a nauseating wave of guilt that threatened to swallow Regina. Was Emma implying what Regina feared she was implying?

"Anyways," the blonde continued after a while, clearly thrown off by the lack of response she'd gotten but still bravely moving on. "What I'm trying to tell you is that I chose this spot because it represents our relationship in all its phases. The linden tree," she pointed up at it, "I had climbed when you first talked to me. The forest," she waved her hand at the trees stretching out before them, "where we first met. The mansion," she turned around to where the windows were reflecting the reddened sky; "where we spent the past one and a half years. But most importantly, there is you and me, primarily you though. And I guess, what I'm really trying to say is that you're awfully important for me and I really hope that what I'm going to say now won't change things between us but I've really got to say it: I lo - "

"No!" Regina suddenly broke in, half-screaming, half-breathing, and Emma stopped mid-word, her mouth still open at the "o". The remaining syllables were already in the offing in the tilt of her head, the vulnerable cast of her eyes, the soft roundness of her lips, but Regina couldn't, wouldn't hear them. 

It was too much. Throughout the past year she had been fine lying about the curse, or at least withholding its existence, certain that telling Emma about it would firstly, destroy their relationship forever and secondly, would be of no use, except adding another person to the circle of those who were dreading a twentieth anniversary. It would be cruel to tell a young woman of eighteen about the end of her life, she had argued; the downsides outweighed the pros. Throughout the past year she had kept that one secret to herself, put off, and recently even frightened, by the consequences sharing it could bring. They were getting along so nicely, she had argued, it would be a shame to throw all that to waste in favour of absolute, devastating honesty.

All of that had changed now. 

Keeping a secret from a friend was bad. Keeping a secret from the woman she lived with, slept with, shared everything else with was worse. Keeping a secret from a woman who was about to confess her love for her was a step Regina refused to take. Emma deserved to know the truth about Regina before she made up her mind to say those three little words with the big meaning, and that meant Regina had to tell her.

All those thoughts had passed through Regina's mind in the fraction of a second, shock and fear releasing the adrenaline into her blood. Emma was still sitting with her mouth frozen in the "o". Regina's hands raised, her voice too loud from the outburst as she began to talk.

"Don't finish your sentence," she exclaimed, sounding so much harsher than she would have liked, and Emma winced and closed her mouth. She seemed to deflate right before Regina's eyes, all that nervous chatter diminished into a blow of air she released into the sunset.

"Oh," she uttered and Regina had never heard a word as small as that one. Her heart fractured, but she couldn't allow herself a weakness now.

"It's not about what you were going to say," she still assured Emma, although that wasn't one hundred percent true. "I'm not... Well, I'm not unfeeling either, I feel thrilled at what you meant to tell me, but I simply can't allow it. There is something you don't know yet, something you should consider. If you still feel the same about me afterwards, I will gladly accept..." Her voice broke at this, and she had to draw a shuddering breath to keep talking.

"I've made a horrible mistake," she finally choked out, and Emma's eyes were wide green ponds of poorly concealed dejection, reflecting Regina's failure in heart breaking detail. Regina swallowed, the words in her throat like sharp-edged shards, slicing her open from the inside as she tried to heave them out. Quite automatically, she reached for Emma's arm, the tattooed wrist limp in her grasp. Goosebumps erupted on Emma's skin as Regina gently brushed her thumb over the inky lines, and suddenly her green eyes were glossy with tears.

"Regina, please," she whispered, her voice weak with rejection, and the queen let go of her arm as if burned. It wasn't fair, she knew, to drag out this moment any longer, wasn't healthy for either of them. Tears of her own were beginning to cloud her vision but she swallowed them down, sizzling poison against her already wounded throat.

"You had just been born," she continued, fighting to keep her eyes on Emma's instead of allowing them to escape the painful image of confusion and hurt in the girl's face. "Snow White was happy, so sickeningly happy, I had to intervene. I..."

Emma sat motionless and rigid, nothing but her eyes betraying the emotions swirling beneath the surface. Regina tried to memorize that look, the faint shimmer of love that still hid behind the pain of rejection, for she was sure to never see it again after her next sentence. 

"I cursed you," she finally said, so quietly it almost got lost in the wind, but Emma's eyes closed and Regina knew she had heard her. The blonde's disappointment hit her like a wave, robbing her of oxygen and she faltered, stumbled into the explanation like a mad woman.

"Actually, I cursed your mother," her trembling voice uttered, tripping over the words. Emma still wasn't looking at her. "I cursed _the one Snow White loved most_, to hurt her in the same way she had hurt me, and the one she loved most was you."

Emma's lips trembled in what was either anger or upset or even fear, Regina wasn't quite sure. All of a sudden she had lost her instinct for Emma's moods, that kind of sixth sense that had tied her to the girl hanging loosely between them, as if they had lost the strength to keep it taut.

"The curse had a time component," Regina continued almost subconsciously, a strange urge in her to fill the silence, to make Emma look up and reply something, anything. "It is due to hit on the twentieth anniversary of your name giving ceremony. In thirteen months."

Emma opened her eyes. The green was carefully misted by a silver gleam, making her look expressionless, almost indifferent. "Will I die?" She asked, eerily calm. Regina shivered.

"Eternal sleep."

Emma showed no reaction. She seemed as if behind a glass wall, muted and faint, her usually so vivid colours greying in the fading light. 

"The threat," she murmured, not thoughtful, not disbelieving, neither warm nor cold, but simply detached. "The threat that made my parents give me away. It was you; your curse."

"The only way to save you, was for Snow to stop loving you. She thought it might be accomplished if she didn't see you anymore," Regina confirmed, more frightened about Emma's strange behaviour than she could explain. Her fingers itched to touch Emma, to feel for the glass between them and shatter it, to invade Emma's personal space, only to satisfy her own need for response. _Selfish_, she chided herself, and grasped her own hand to keep it from reaching out, _selfish, selfish, selfish_, and where had this led her? Casting the curse had been selfish too, and she had come to regret that more than anything. Magic always came with a price and she was only now realizing that Snow White wouldn't be the only one to pay it.

"That’s why you were watching me too?" Emma's strange new voice interrupted her thoughts, impersonal, unfeeling.

"In the beginning, yes," Regina admitted, "but that changed when I got to know you better. You..." The tang of blood filled her mouth as she bit down on her lip to stop the tears from falling. She wouldn't cry, not before she'd finished. 

"I do like you," she eventually choked out, "and I regret -"

"Stop."

Startled, Regina looked up just in time to witness a crack opening up in Emma's stony façade, a crack just wide enough to allow a brief glimpse at searing pain, before Emma turned away.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She demanded to know, suddenly sharp, and Regina almost sighed with relief. Finally Emma was giving her the anger and accusations she deserved, instead of that nerve-wrecking silence. 

"I didn't..." she began, prepared to provide Emma with a truthful, if very shameful, explanation for her behaviour, but before she could say a word more, Emma interrupted her again.

"Were you afraid I'd leave and destroy your plan?" There was a sharp jut to her chin and an almost dangerous glint in her eyes as she turned around again. "Or did you just think it was fun to play with me?"

Regina's brow wrinkled, the danger of tears almost entirely gone. "I'm not sure I know what you are talking about," she said slowly, shying away when Emma released a hiccup-y sob.

"Please Regina." It came out raw, like a scrape, and stinging just as much. "Just tell me the truth."

Regina hesitated. Emma's face was a painful grimace, vulnerably open and sealed off at once, and Regina felt the conversation slipping through her fingers, the little control she'd still had gone when Emma suddenly flared.

"Why won't you just say it?" She screamed, startling up a whole flock of birds nearby as she jumped up. "Why do you have to make it harder still? Why can't you just admit that you lied to me? Seduced me? Used me to hurt your fucking nemesis?"

"No, Emma, I -"

"I love you, Regina!" Tears were streaming down Emma's cheeks now, forming a cobwebs of lines, silvery in the dim light of dusk. "I know it is childish and dumb and exactly what you wanted, so why won’t you just _tell me_."

Regina wanted to, every part of her longing to ease Emma's pain, to give her the admission she asked for, but she couldn't. Emma was a silhouette in the twilight, breathing sharply as she stared down at Regina, arms hanging helplessly at her side. Her tattoo was hidden from view, only the edge of one petal implied as a blackish shadow. Regina couldn't lie, not even for Emma's benefit, not with _I love you_ echoing in her head, coating her tongue with a bitter-sweet scent that elated and suffocated her at the same time.

_I love you too_, she thought, and opened her mouth to tell Emma, but no words came out. For how could she confess her love for the person she had only ever hurt? How could she expect to sound truthful if it was her curse that would destroy Emma's life forever. How could she do that to the crying woman in front of her? The woman who now turned away without a glance back, first walking, then running down the hill and towards the stables. Of course Regina could have called her back, could have tried to explain. But explanations felt insignificant compared to the one truth in her heart, the one she couldn't say.

So Regina stayed silent, scraped the words off her tongue, caught the echoing sentence in her head, and buried it in a thrice-locked chest in the very back of her mind. One day she might say them to Emma, she concluded. If she could ever prove herself worthy of them. 

Emma's figure had reached the stables. One moment it was clearly visible, tall and black against the yellowish light of the open door, hesitating for the briefest of moments as if having second thoughts, then the door fell shut and she was gone.

A sudden surge of loneliness befell Regina as she walked back to the mansion on her own. The trees on the lane cast lingering shadows, a cool breeze rustling their leaves, and Regina shuddered. She wasn't used to solitude anymore; the mansion felt too quiet, her blanket to big, the bed too cold. Her sleep was restless and broken that night.

Morning came and Regina almost hoped Emma would be back, a teasing grin on her lips and a witty comment on her tongue. In her heart she knew she wouldn’t, and so she wasn't much surprised to find the mirror showing Roni's box empty, the green chamber untouched, and Emma gone.

Before the grandfather clock in the corridor chimed twelve, Regina had left the mansion behind as well, returning to her castle in a plume of violet smoke. Instructing a dumbstruck guard to deal with her luggage, she made her way straight to the library, not even stopping by her ministers.

Regina had a mission. She would stop this curse.


	13. in which a queen fails

The greenish liquid emanated a foul stench, tendrils of smoke rising from the pot, potent enough to make Regina's head swirl. Breathing through her mouth, she lifted the vial with ground dragon tongue, averted her eyes and emptied it into the potion. A sizzle, a blinding light then silence. Regina hesitated for a second, briefly pressing her nails into her palm in silent pleading, then turned around.

The green had changed into a purplish colour, lilac and violet merging and swirling in a viscous gloop. The steaming had stopped, the last faint traces of the green clouds dispersing above the cauldron, in which the potion was now merrily bubbling. Regina took a deep breath, forced herself to be glad about the interim result. While the density certainly left a lot to be desired still, at least the colour matched the one of the dust she had cursed Snow White with. It was something.

And then, when Regina was just on the verge of turning away again to study her spell book for the next step, the liquid suddenly turned black, the bubbles froze, and a low whistle sounded out, quiet at first, then gradually growing until it pierced Regina's ear with its intensity. The Queen dropped to the floor with her hands pressed to her ears.

A jet of flame broke through the crusted cover that had formed on the potion, tinting the room momentarily into flickering reds and yellows. A heat wave hit Regina, and it was all she could do to throw up her arms in time to empty an emergency bucket of water on the cauldron before her dress caught fire from sheer heat alone. An eerie calm fell on the chamber, interrupted only by the tapping of water drops falling from the pot's edge to the stone floor, forming a small trickle towards the drain. 

Regina's hands were shaking, but then again, they always were nowadays, the endless series of laborious days and disturbed nights demanding their price. Her cheeks had flushed, a faint shine of sweat covered her skin, and when she inhaled, she had to bend over and cough from the parched dryness in her throat. The tiles beneath her felt warm to the touch, and she shied away from them, stumbling to her feet with a flow of curse words that would have made every dwarf proud.

The potion was a solid block of soot, clinging to the walls of the cauldron in irregular clumps, leaving only a narrow hole in its middle where the flame had been. Now it was filled with grimy water, clouded by particles and oily streaks. Regina swore again, a long stream of words that suddenly broke off and dissipated into choked sobs, low and furious sounds as she ran trembling fingers through her hair. 

Four months had passed since she returned to the castle, four months of turning over every spell book she could find, trying every dragon-related ingredient she could think of, wearing out every cauldron available and emptying every vial in her storage, and she was still no closer to breaking the curse. Feverish purpose had given way to a forlorn noodling around, her work seeming more pointless and hopeless with every day.

A shiver ran through Regina, upsetting her magic and redirecting the purple flash she had sent out to take care of the destroyed cauldron. The energy met the stony walls of her laboratory instead, crepitating in a sizzle of sparks. Regina bit her lip, the skin already torn and marked from the million times she had done the same to stop herself from falling apart.

Only this time, her teeth lacked bite, the external pain too weak to drown out the one inside her, deriving from the realization that she was failing. Of course Regina had known about the danger of ground dragon tongue. It was prone to produce enormous heat similar to real dragon fire, and the bucket hadn't been a lucky safe but calculated security. The experiment had been a last resort, a cry of desperation after every other option had failed.

Regina stared miserably down at the blackish water meandering over the floor. One armlet had reached her feet and was now slowly soaking the rim of her dress, a dark spot on the velvet that was bound to turn into a permanent stain, but she couldn't bring herself to care. It was an old dress anyways, a plain number she hadn't worn in years. It suited her now, the drooping cloth hiding the pallor of a summer spent in closed chambers, long sleeves to conceal the web of veins running down her arms like a tattoo of her own, dark from the overuse of magic. 

Yes, Regina had drained herself, given every spark in her to the cause, to making the potion work. It hadn't helped. She knew it wasn't the fault of her powers that success came to nothing; her sparks were alright, it was the kindling that lacked. If she could only replicate the spell, she had thought, four months ago when she'd still been positive she would succeed. Finding an antidote to an existing potion was easy. But replicating an exact spell was hard under normal circumstances, and Regina didn't even know the ingredients, let alone the fabrication. Dragons, time, sleep were the components she knew about, scentless, purple, dusty the final product she was looking for. It was hopeless. 

No, not hopeless. There was still one way she hadn't tried. A very small, very silent hiss of defiance escaped through Regina's teeth, a faint echo of the resolution that had stopped her from taking that way in the first place. It was the weak way, a derogatory and offending solution, which thus far hadn't stood a chance against Regina's pride. But pride could wither and crumble under the abuse of failure, and just like Regina's clothes had suffered from four months of ill success, her mind had forfeited parts of its strength, and so the name took form on its own, one letter after the other until it lay like a foul dish on Regina's tongue.

"Rumplestiltskin," she spit out, and unfurled herself from her bent posture, setting her shoulders and jaw into their usual regal angle. She might not know the ingredients to the curse but the Dark One did and Regina would retrieve the knowledge and if she so had to claw it from the imp's dead grasp. 

"Rumplestiltskin," she said again, the second of three calls. A sharp clap of her hands and the cauldron sailed away, a snap of her fingers, and the water dried, restoring the room to its usual orderliness. One more clap and she wore a clean dress, tight and silky. A weary tremor ran through her tired mind, but Regina suppressed it, focused on the knot of determination in her chest. 

"Rumplestiltskin," she said a third time, as haughty as she could muster, and when she turned around, the imp perched on the windowsill. His lips formed a jubilant grin.

"I was wondering when you'd call me. I must say, I'm impressed. You used to give up easier." Laughter, high-pitched and mocking, rang through the room, bouncing off the stone walls in an amplifying terror that pierced right through Regina's defence.

"I have no patience for your games today, Dark One," she snarled, but it sounded weak and tired in comparison, and her hands were shaking. 

Rumple mustered them with unsurprised curiosity. "You don't look well, dearie," he observed when Regina shamefully - no, not shamefully, it was wrong to think this way, strategically was a much better word - moved her fingers behind her back. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were ill. Of course," he cackled, "That's ridiculous. Even you should be able to produce a potion against the common cold. But there are other diseases that aren’t cured as easily: Grief. Jealousy." A dramatic pause, a glimmer in his snake eyes. "Love."

"I need your help," Regina said, refusing to acknowledge Rumple's indication. The imp's words had stirred the pain tightly locked away in her chest, like salt in an open wound they set to work, sucking up her already fragile self-control. Regina was tiptoeing on a line that thinned with every second, and Rumplestiltskin knew it.

"I l-love when they say that," he exclaimed, his tongue curled around the l like a finger around a trigger. Regina's magic trembled, but she held her chin up high. 

"I need -"

"Yes, yes, I know what you need. Or think you need." Rumple giggled at the glare Regina sent his way, then leaned forward as if he were to share a secret. "Tell me, why is the breaking of this curse so important to you all of a sudden? Isn't it what you wanted – revenge. Despair. Brrroken hearts... Pity only that one of those will be yours." He shrieked with laughter as Regina averted her eyes.

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"Aww, is Her Majesty still in denial? I guess it's a good thing then that the princess has found a way to move on..."

Regina gasped, she couldn't help it. During the four months that she had spent without Emma, she had stayed away from mirrors, avoiding the temptation but also the pain they offered. The smooth surfaces reminded her of Emma, the countless times she had watched the girl, later the woman, through the glass. Even without a spell she could fathom blond hair in the glint of sunlight on her own reflection, rosy cheeks in the flash of her dress, and she heard the lilt of a tease when she stepped too close to the smooth surface. As a consequence, mirrors had been veiled at Black Castle, velvety drapes that Emma would have scoffed at covering every inch of glass. Lack of knowledge had just been the price to pay and Regina had gladly done so - until now. 

She gasped and the Dark One turned on her, like a hound sniffing out a prey. His mouth dropped open into an ‘o’, eyes widening, a mocking mask of shock. 

"Oh. Oh no. I shouldn't have said that. Not that you would mind of course, as you are merrily denying your feelings, but it is so awfully indiscreet to share the secrets of other people." He giggled and clapped his hands, producing a mirror out of thin air. "I guess you will just have to see for yourself."

A tremor ran through Regina's hand as she reached for the handheld, a hot and cold sensation that was unfamiliar to her in an uncomfortable and nervous kind of way. Four months of solitude had taken their toll on her, changed her into a shadow of herself, and yet she almost hoped Emma would betray similar signs. It was a dreadful wish, one that brought back the quenching guilt she had fought for so long, but she needn't have worried.

Emma looked glorious. The mirror showed her from behind, a mass of thick curls tumbling down her back, golden in the shine of the late autumn sun. She had her head thrown back in laughter, two lines of eyelashes just visible from the bird view Regina had, black against the tan skin of a face that had been out in the open all summer. She wore the same dress she had left in, the blue cotton stained in many places but still a wonderful contrast to her hair. One arm, the tattooed one, lay loosely on Roni's back, the mare's dark fur hiding the flower. The other hand was entwined with the pale, masculine one of the person next to her. 

Regina inhaled sharply, a sudden sting in her chest that made it hard not to double over in pain. Rumplestiltskin laughed somewhere behind her, but she didn't care, couldn't care as her gaze zeroed in on the man. His hair was a mob of carefully tousled curls, his shirt high-collared and somehow chic despite the plain colour and dirt stains on his back, a clean weave that betrayed a higher value than one would think, his posture casual but still poised, a cock in his head that seemed familiar, and Regina couldn't put her finger on what exactly she recognized but she had seen this guy before, and then he turned to the side and it was - 

"Prince Neal!" She gasped, letting go of the mirror as if burned. It shattered into a million pieces at her feet, the shards still showing flashes of brown and green before Rumplestiltskin waved his hand and they went silver again.

"You look pale," he commented maliciously, "Don't you think they make a charming couple? Prince and Princess, happily in love."

A hiss escaped Regina at that hateful word, a stream of air brushing past her teeth. It carried oxygen, Regina was distantly aware, but not enough, and she began to feel faint.

The image of Emma, laughing like she'd never done before, was imprinted on her memory, replaying over and over again, her hand in Neal's, her bow, which she hadn't let go off for weeks after meeting Regina, hung loosely over her back.

"How?" She managed, clinging to the question like an anchor. How was the Crown Prince of Gold out there in the woods? How had he found Emma? How had he won her trust? How was he mending her? Gluing the shambles Regina had produced back together? Had there been genuine hurt on Emma's part at all? Regina had thought so, even months after the disastrous evening she felt guilty about the way she had treated Emma, and now it seemed she had been the only one to really suffer. 

But it didn't matter. She had sworn to prevent this curse from happening, for Emma, not for herself. She would return what she had so selfishly taken, time, life, happiness, and she would do so regardless of what Emma planned to do with it. 

Regina looked up from the shards that still seemed to whisper to her; steadying herself she met Rumplestiltskin's watchful eyes. 

"I need - " she began again, at the same time as the imp grinned and said: "You really don't know, do you?"

"Know what?" Regina cursed herself for still responding to Rumple's taunts but it was too late. A triumphant smile spread across the greenish face of the Dark One.

"Oh Regina," he sighed, "Did you really think you were the only one with a long-range scheme here?"

Regina swallowed, a sinister presentiment overcoming her. "What?" She still asked, her throat too dry, her voice too scratchy. 

Rumple cocked his head indulgently. "I am of course talking about me. Did you ever wonder about time being frozen since the curse?"

Forcing herself to take a proper breath, Regina nodded. "I did think it odd, yes. What purpose does it serve you?" 

"Oh," Rumple shrugged exaggeratedly, "nothing much. Just making sure the princess comes of age before she gets married to my son."

"Your..." Regina staggered back. Her boot stepped on a piece of glass, causing a screeching sound as it slid over the stone floor. It resounded in Regina's head, sickening and unnatural. "Your son?" 

"Oh yes." The imp clapped his hands, he was obviously enjoying himself immensely. "My boy, Baelfire. Of course, you would know him as Prince Neal."

"Prince Neal is... Your son?" Regina repeated, a whisper hardly loud enough to compete against the static buzz in her ears. 

"He does have my chin." 

Regina swallowed, fighting to regain control of the situation. The obnoxious leader of Gold had Dark One blood in his veins. She should have known, should have recognized the signs. It all made sense now, Rumple's strange request to start a war with White, his unamused reaction when Regina attacked Gold too, the time component in the curse, stopping everyone from ageing...

"Marriage?" Regina coughed out, just now remembering the second part of Rumplestiltskin's admission. "You want Emma to marry your son?"

"I want my son to have power. To rule," the Dark One said, underlining his words with elaborate gestures. "I want him to have a good life. That's why I took the dagger. That's why I gave you the curse. Bae, Neal, he doesn't like me meddling, he doesn't want to succeed through magic. So, to maximize his influence, I have to marry him into another kingdom. And since I considered your heart to be too unfeeling - you proved me wrong there, dearie -," he giggled maniacally, "White was the only possibility. Then Snow White married for love..."

"So you decided to wait for the next generation," Regina filled in, tonelessly. She felt sick.

"I knew you'd get it," Rumple laughed. "And the best part is, giving you the curse provided me with excellent control over your court. After the merger between Gold and White is complete, they will start a war against Black, which I will make sure they'll win."

"But the curse," Regina objected, and wasn't it funny how she resorted to it with hope now? "Emma will be asleep, how do you plan to marry your son to a woman that might as well be dead?"

"Ideally, the wedding will be over before the Princess tragically leaves us. And if not, well," he snapped his fingers, "all curses can be broken. Until then, time will be frozen, nothing to worry about."

"You are..." Regina heaved, struggling to get the words past the growing lump of bile in her throat. "You are..."

"A genius?" Rumple proposed, then laughed smugly, "Yes, I know. And who knows, in the end it might be my son, who breaks the curse."

"Disgusting!" Regina spit, "You are disgusting, as is your son. This whole scheme is..." She bit down on her lip, hard enough to taste the metal tang of blood, as she fought against furious tears. 

"Careful," Rumple weighed in, an amused smirk playing on his lips. "Your feelings are showing." And with that said, he vanished in a plume of red smoke.

It hadn't yet cleared away when Regina collapsed, falling to her knees in the middle of the mirror shards. Not caring about the sharp edges cutting slashes into her dress, her skin, she released a low wail. Blood began to trickle down her legs, warm and wet like the tears against her cheeks as she bent over, burying her last hope.

* * *

Regina woke up, feeling tired and old. The latter sensation faded along with sleep though, frozen somewhere in time, just like her free will. Weeks had passed since Rumplestiltskin had unveiled his scheme, neatly pulling the rug out from under Regina's feet. Weeks during which autumn had been ousted by winter, frosty nights and snow-covered days effectively bleaching the last dregs of fighting spirit out of Regina's heart. When she closed her eyes, she could still see Emma's laughing silhouette next to Neal's treacherous one, looming over the Princess like the shadow of the monster his father was. 

In the days after Rumple's visit, Regina had been tempted to speak to Emma, adopt her old sprite persona and make sure the blonde was aware of the plotting against her. But she was pretty sure Emma wouldn't listen to her, let alone heed her advice, and who was Regina to blame her for it. Besides, as repugnant as Neal and the strings attached to him might be, with the curse still firmly in place, it was very possible he would be the key to breaking it. Rumplestiltskin had said it himself, there was a chance Neal would be able to kiss Emma awake - Regina retched at the thought, doubled over with the longing to throw up and maybe, just maybe, get the thought out of her mind along with it - but she couldn't, wouldn't risk this last shred of redemption.

And so she had kept quiet, thrown herself back into work - granted, with moderate success, her mind a fleeting thing these days, jumpy and easily distracted - and tried to forget about Emma. Tried to rebuild her walls, the shell of anger she had developed after Daniel's death, tried to hide her pain away, lock it into chests and bury those under layers of heavy make-up and luxurious dresses.

Mending a heart ought to be easier the second time around. Except that she hadn't mended it the first time either. Daniel had stayed with her throughout the years, a memory she'd clung to, a reminder of why she was fighting. The need for vengeance had driven her, the presence of an enemy, a person to blame, had made it easier.

Who could she blame now? Rumplestiltskin, obviously, and - herself. It had been her, after all, who had cast the curse, her who had kept secrets from Emma, her who had willingly followed the Dark One's plans in her blind need to have it all. 

Her who had destroyed her own happiness.

Regina sat up, shivering in her nightgown. The weather seemed to be quite stormy outside, tiny flurries of snow swirling past the window panes in indistinguishable patterns. It would be an indoors day.

The Queen dragged herself to the wardrobe, selecting a random dress that looked remotely warm, slippers to go with it. She yanked a brush through her hair, piled it up on her head without looking, applied a dab of make-up, snapped her fingers to transform it all into a flawless appearance, and left the room to get to her meeting.

The corridor was empty, a cold draught Regina's only company. It tugged at the hem of her dress, brushed against her ankles like freezing fingertips, pinched her toes through the too thin material of her shoes. Goosebumps erupted on her skin, Regina sighed; why couldn't the servants remember to close the windows at this time of year. She rounded a corner - and found herself face to face with her own soot-rimmed eyes.

The wisp of wind was stronger in this corridor, an icy breeze that blew through the empty space, howling faintly. It had managed to tear off the drape from one of her mirrors, a large, round piece of glass encircled by metal rays like snakes, that were now framing Regina's reflection like a halo. The previous cover still hang on one of the tips, heavy velvet cloth that swayed in the wind, dark like Regina's immaculate hair. Immaculate hair and immaculate dress and immaculate skin and make-up and everything, Regina looked at her reflection and saw defeat.

Her eyes, though framed by immaculately painted eyelashes, were dull and lifeless. Her mouth, hidden under layers of immaculate lipstick, had ceased talking long ago. Her hands, though featuring immaculate nail polish in the same colour as her dress, were clasped before her, inert, still. Regina almost wished they were shaking again, if only to lend her some life, some sign of productivity.

She had become what she had always despised. She had become Snow White, consumed by grief, paralysed by failure, somehow praying for a magical change but unwilling to actually work for it. She had become a damsel in distress, waiting for the knight in shining armour to save the situation. She had become a pawn in a game she used to rule, and the worst thing was, she had become it all by herself. 

It was in that moment of deepest self-reflection, of disgust and scorn about how she had descended from her thrown and flung herself into the dirt, that an idea came to her. Not like a light flaming to life, not sudden and complete, but slowly, like a sunrise, a delicate brightness that was dawning on her as she met her own stricken expression in the looking glass.

Snow White was the key. Pretty, useless, hateful Snow White, who was to be beginning and end to Regina's misery. Regina had cursed Snow White, nineteen and a half years ago, not Emma, although she had borne the brunt of it. The curse was linked to Snow White, targeting the one Snow White loved most, and that happened to be Emma but _it didn't have to be_.

Regina felt inclined to slap herself in the face, cursing her own blindness. She was only now realizing what Snow had understood years ago, that the way to save Emma lay in stopping loving Emma, in _forgetting_ about her. Regina might not be able to brew a counter curse, but she was well able to concoct a memory potion and she saw herself smile in the mirror, a small and cautious curl of her lips before she snapped her fingers and was gone, towards her inventory, towards victory.

* * *

The beginnings of March were in the offing - four months left till D-Day - when Regina emerged from her chamber, triumphant again, a small crystal vial clutched securely in her hands. It had taken her a while to prepare the potion, a translucent liquid of indefinable odour, made from the very dregs of her stock. All she lacked now was a hair from Snow White's head and an opportunity to pour the drink down her nemesis' throat, and Emma would be saved.

Regina could have danced with joy. _Look at me_, she wanted to tell Rumplestiltskin, _watch me defying your plans_. Snow White would forget about her daughter, and Emma, who had never wanted to be princess to begin with, would be free and penniless and what use was she to Rumple and his evil scheme then?

She conjured a mirror, let it show the White castle for the first time in ages, Snow White's tower where she lay day after day, wasting in regret and grief. _Watch me changing things_, Regina wanted to say, _watch me save your daughter, not for your sake, not for my sake, but for her sake and hers alone_. The tower came into focus, the light freestone sculptured into turrets and sills and the arched gaping of a window, shining softly out into the night. 

For it was night, Regina hadn't even noticed in her flurry, a scarab blue of a winter night, like a velvet veil wrapped around everything there was. Only the night lights spotted the darkness, rows of torches where the guards were patrolling the castle wall, a flickering candle in the royal bedroom, just bright enough that Regina could outline the soft curve of Snow's unchanged face, the stubble jawline of her Prince, pressed up against her from behind. 

Regina felt a small sting at the picture, the poses so similar to how she and Emma used to sleep, hands intertwined as if keeping a tiny secret between their palms. But she couldn't allow herself to mourn past pleasures now, not when she was seconds away from completing her mission and thus, finally, finally, saving Emma.

Checking one last time that the royal couple was really fast asleep, Regina took a deep breath and, vial in hand, transported herself to the White's bedside.

It almost felt like coming home. 

Not the castle, although that had been her home once. But what a cruel home, an abusive one, a home she'd been glad to leave behind for good even though the choice hadn't been entirely hers, those twenty years ago, when Snow White had banished her from her kingdom. Back then, Regina hadn't spared the old walls a second glance, hadn't wasted any time on sentimentalities apart from her revenge. And indeed, apart from the day when she'd cast the curse, she'd never returned. Until now.

So it wasn't the castle that felt familiar, though she remembered the smell, flowery traces from the millions of vases even little Snow had always kept filled. It wasn't the royal bedchamber either, although Regina's silent screams still echoed through her mind when she looked at the bed in which Snow and her Prince were now peacefully asleep. No, it was - and Regina realized it with a start, like waking up from a deep slumber - the situation itself which was familiar, the standing over Snow White with a spell in her hand, about to change her life.

Power surged through Regina, a heady thrill as it fully dawned upon her. She had made it. She had found a loophole in the Dark One's plan. She would complete her mission, she would save Emma, a quest that Snow in her useless, wannabe hero way had not accomplished. _Look at you fail_, she addressed Rumple. _Look at me rise_, she told Snow. She uncorked the vial.

And stumbled. 

The potion was ready, it was right there in her hand, clear and shining and only lacking a hair of Snow White's ebony tresses to be complete. But Regina couldn't move. A dreadful buzzing sound had set in, a high-pitched bleeping that pierced through her ears, jumbled the thoughts in her head, bereft her of control, of purpose. Regina fell to her knees, a low thump as she put away the vial, just managing to set it down gently as to not spill the content, before she pressed her hands to her ears.

The noise didn't stop, it seemed to come from her inside, bleeding out into the world. Regina felt dizzy, as if she were actually losing blood, she couldn't breathe, couldn't see, dark blotches appeared in front of her eyes, she swayed...

A shuffle of blankets, a squeal and a male voice barely penetrated the veil of unconsciousness that threatened to cover Regina.

"It's the Queen," she could make out, "she's entered the castle."

"She seems to be in pain. Our wards must be working."

"Call the guards..."

Regina passed out.


	14. in which a queen has been captured

When she opened her eyes again, it was to an almost all-surrounding darkness, kept at bay only by a very dim light somewhere to her right. At first she thought no time had passed at all, she was still in Snow's bedroom, at night, about to cast her spell. But then she blinked a few times and realized her error.

The room she lay in wasn't the bedchamber and neither derived the darkness from the late hour. Quite contrary: her eyes focused on naked stone walls, roughly hewn into a circular room. Regina lay in its centre on the floor, next to a plain bed, a night stand with a small candle on it, a stout wooden door with a barred opening. A window, veiled by grey cloth, kept out the sun, the bright frame around it suggesting it was around noon. Regina didn't know on what day.

She sat up, a low growling sound escaping her at the throbbing pain that immediately exploded in her head. She felt drained, tired despite having slept for at least half a day, and her arms shook as she propped herself up against the bed. She was wearing an unfamiliar grey dress, made of a scratchy material. She couldn't remember who had put it on her, or when. Her hair was bound in a plain ponytail. She sighted a cup of water, placed neatly at the side of the door. She crawled over and chugged it down in one go. Then she stood up.

The room began to turn and Regina momentarily closed her eyes, leaned against the wall for support. After a while, the dizziness subsided and she made her way across the small space, sat down on her pallet and tried to remember what had happened. She could recall entering the castle when everything was still normal. She had felt fine, a bit tired maybe from working day and night at the potion, but otherwise fine. Victory had overtaken her, she remembered the thrill, remembered the power in her veins at the thought of success. She had been on the top of her game, magic alive in her body. And then, the change. Something had kicked in, some defence system - she remembered the word "wards", mumbled under Snow White's breath - a powerful charm that had attacked Regina and drained her energy. She could hear it now, a low buzz in the back of her mind, resembling the sound of an insect, close enough to make Regina squirmy and irritated, but not so loud it hurt anymore. It was magic, no question, and it had been apparently triggered by Regina's spell, activated the moment she had opened the vial -

Regina's head snapped up with a start, causing a firework of pain to erupt in her head. She hissed it away, blinked rapidly until the stars had vanished, all the while panic rose in her like a tidal wave ready to struck the moment her concentration faltered. Where was the vial? 

Before she could will herself to remember, a loud banging came from the door, neatly interrupting her focus.

"Wake up, witch," a male voice sounded out, "Her Majesty the Queen."

Snow White. Where was the damn vial? The door swung open, momentarily revealing the look at a small platform on top of a winding staircase, one guard - _one_ guard?! - and Snow, clad in white as per usual. She stepped in.

"Leave us." Her voice wasn't as gentle as Regina remembered, all the years of grieving had brought a new roughness to it, a brusqueness that surprised Regina. For the smallest moment, she was reminded of Emma, the resemblance like a sting to her heart that only reinforced her worries about the vial's whereabouts. _Oh Snow_, the thought, and there was the old bitterness, the hatred for her nemesis. _How stupid of you to lock me away. I could have helped you save your daughter_.

Of course, she didn't say any of that, only curled her lip when Snow looked at her. Her voice might be different, but never her eyes, the clear blue betraying so much pain. A few years ago, Regina would have revelled in it, bathed in the misery she had inflicted. But today, she had other priorities. She felt for her powers.

"I wouldn't use magic if I were you," Snow said, surprisingly calm. "I assure you, it hurts you more than me."

Regina snorted. She just needed a lock of hair and some information, then she'd be out of here. Of course she would use magic. She snapped her fingers.

Her world exploded in pain. The buzzing noise was back, louder than before, and it infiltrated her like a fever, spread through her body and pulled, pulled the energy out of her in long, purple tendrils. Magic, Regina realized as if through a haze, the ward was draining her magic.

Snow shook her head, she was talking but Regina couldn't hear her through the buzz, then the other woman stood up and turned to leave. Regina couldn't allow that, the vial, _Emma_, and she let go of her magic, surrendered control to the charm before she passed out again and finally, finally, the noise subdued and she collapsed onto her bed.

"What," she choked out, "What have you done?"

Snow White turned around, a sad smile on her lips, and Regina hated her a bit more for not gloating. It made her seem so _good_. 

"We're fighting fire with fire," Snow said, stepping away from the door again. Regina's brow furrowed.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means we have warded the castle with magic, Regina. The fairies helped us install a powerful enchantment on the walls itself, a charm that suppresses the use of dark magic." 

"Why are you telling me this?" Regina asked, suspicious about the apparent honesty. "I could use it to my advantage."

"There is no use in having secrets."

"Of course _you_ wouldn't know how to keep one," Regina muttered but it was almost without bite. The humming in her head was killing her and she really needed to find the potion.

"What was in that vial?" Snow asked, as if she'd read Regina's thoughts. 

The Queen's head snapped up, "How do you know - " but of course, she'd left the potion behind and Snow had found it. Damn.

"Where is it?" She asked, trying to buy herself some time. Oh, this hateful buzzing, it slowed her down when she could least afford it.

"What was in it?" Snow asked right back. She had come closer, her heavy ebony tresses within arm's reach but of what use were they to Regina when she didn't have the potion. She knew Snow White had kept it, could see it in her clear eyes, so unlike Emma's ever-guarded ones. Her hands twitched with the urge to attack the other queen, if not with magic then with pure force, attack her and squeeze out the whereabouts of the potion, but she knew she wouldn't be able to make her way through the castle on her own. Why did Snow have to be smart enough not to bring the vial? Why did she have to be dumb enough to stop Regina in a quest which would have saved the one person they both cared about?

Regina wanted to slap Snow, wanted to slap herself for not taking better precautions. Her mind was going round in circles, potion, vial, Emma, Snow, potion, vial, Emma...

It was pointless. There was only one way out of this and it required the truth. Regina would never be able to pull this off on her own, not while sitting in a cell that was draining her powers, not with time as her enemy.

She took a deep breath. Emma was worth this, she told herself, Emma was more important than Regina's pride. Sure, Emma was with Neal now and Regina would probably never see her again even if she managed to break the curse but Regina owed her as much. For two years of happiness. For Emma’s belief in her, trust in her, _lov__e_ for her, although Regina had proven unworthy of it all in the end. 

A sharp sting of loss pierced through Regina's heart, taking her breath away even as the buzz faded into the background. She pushed it away, this love, love, love coating her tongue like bittersweet syrup, forced her mind to clear of all side issues and focus on her one mission.

"It is a memory potion," Regina said, not looking at Snow in fear the view of her nemesis would make her change her mind. "I made it so you would forget about Emma and the curse would hit someone else. It only lacks one hair of you. Add it, mix it until the liquid turns cloudy, then drink it and your daughter will be safe."

"You mean, my daughter will be your prisoner forever." Snow's voice was sharp all of a sudden. "Don't think I don't know."

"What?" Now Regina had to look up again. Snow's fair brow was wrinkled and her eyes flashed with poorly suppressed anger. Regina frowned in return. "Know what?"

"Know about Emma of course," Snow replied, her pretty face scrunched up as she came even closer to Regina. "What have you done to her? Isn't one curse enough?"

"What are you even talking about?"

"You kidnapping my daughter!" Snow suddenly exploded, and Regina's magic welled up almost automatically, bringing the noise with it. Regina winced in pain, tried to fight the terrible spell but had to give up when the buzzing became almost unbearable and black patches began to appear before her eyes. Once again, she let her powers go, and it felt like part of her very life energy left her body along with it. The purple haze surrounded her for a second, and then it was gone, absorbed by the castle walls. 

Regina slumped down. Her head was spinning and she hadn't heard another word of what Snow White had said. The woman had begun to cry and for a moment Regina felt disgust at the blatant display of weakness, but then Snow sobbed "She doesn't deserve any of this" and that particular sentence hit home a bit too close.

"Listen," Regina thus said very pragmatically, though her head was still throbbing and she could hardly sit up straight, "I regret casting this curse on Emma, which is why I made a memory potion for you. If you want to save your daughter you have to take the potion."

"Where is Emma?" Snow asked. Regina was tempted to roll her eyes but suppressed the urge. It wouldn't help her case.

"I don't know," she stressed every word. "The last time I saw her-"

"So you admit you've seen her," Snow interrupted. "There's no point in denying it further."

"Yes, I have seen her," Regina admitted, fighting to keep the anger out of her voice. "_Months_ ago.” And she should have known White would attribute Emma’s disappearance three years ago to Regina. Why pause to think about their own mistakes if they had the perfect scapegoat. Regina swallowed harshly, hid the bitterness behind desperate purpose. “Now, back to the matter of the potion..."

"I don't believe a word of what you are saying. And I surely won't drink your potion."

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Regina exclaimed, her patience finally exhausted. "Why should I lie to you while Emma's life is at stake?"

Snow stood up abruptly. "This is of no use. You are mocking me." Before Regina could even react, she had crossed the room and knocked for the guard.

"No wait," Regina called out, just when the door was opening, "I'm telling the truth. You have to believe me if we want to save Emma."

Snow, who had turned around at first, a glimmer of hope in her stupid blue eyes, sagged. "I'm coming back tomorrow, Regina. I want the truth then." And she left the room without a glance back.

* * *

Regina's days continued in that fashion. She woke up to pounding headaches and the ever-present buzz in her mind. She ate, then spent her mornings gazing out of the window, a quite lovely view out over the lake, which was lost to Regina as she wrecked her head to come up with a plan to either escape or convince Snow to take the potion. In the afternoons, the White Queen paid her visits, sometimes the Prince too. They would always ask the same questions and Regina gave the same, truthful answers. She had considered lying to satisfy them of course, but that would only worsen her image and support Snow's refusal to take the potion. She had to hope her steadfastness would eventually pay off - or the Whites would make a mistake that allowed her to flee - and so she endured interview after interview, fighting her impulses, suppressing her magic, waiting for a loophole.

But so far the spell proved impenetrable. It was wearing her out, draining her powers more with every passing day and as magic was linked with Regina's very being, belonging to her body like lungs, or a stomach, without it, she did not only feel incomplete, she _was_ incomplete and it started to show quicker than she had expected.

The Prince had just left, after a comparatively extreme interrogation. David tended to threaten Regina - as if there was anything she could still lose - and he'd pressed his sword against her throat for the length of their conversation. Regina in turn had been forced to fight even more than usual to keep her powers down, magic rising to her skin automatically at the cool, dangerous touch of a weapon, and now she felt weary and dizzy. 

She also felt very hot, feverish from the constant strain on her mind. The noise had taken on a wailing quality, a whine that hadn't been there before. Stars began to dance before Regina's eyes, although the spell wasn't even actively extracting her magic. The door suddenly became two doors, both of which were closed and before Regina had the time to complain about the unfairness of it all, she was falling. Everything turned black.

She was bleeding purple when she came to. A faint shine of magic covered her skin, an unnatural colour that was only reinforced by the sickly pallor underneath. Pity, Regina thought dumbly to herself, if she'd been healthy it would surely have resembled the vibrant purple Emma used to be coated in after their nights together.

The thought of Emma calmed Regina, blanked out the ward's hum for a while; fed her with strength. Regina sat up. She had been lucky to have fainted onto her bed; apart from a stiff shoulder and some jammed nerves that had made her leg go dead she was unscathed. Her headache had subsided along with the buzzing and while she still felt a bit feverish, she was positive she could make it through today's interrogation without forfeiting more of her pride.

Except that nobody came. 

The thick wooden door remained closed throughout the day. And the next. And the next.

After two weeks, Regina's fever had risen to the point of hallucinations. The thoughts of Emma could only keep the noise at bay for so long, not to mention the gnawing feeling of guilt that swept through her stomach every time she did, guilt and anxiety because she still hadn't persuaded Snow White to take the potion. And now Snow refused to visit her, to give her even the chance of bringing all this to a happy end and it was driving Regina crazy. She hated this uncertainty, hated her futile position, hated Snow for her idiocy - and the more she hated, the louder the buzz became and it ate away at her strength and sanity with every passing day.

After four weeks she was ready to beg. The constant tiptoeing along the edge of serious sickness had chafed her into a mere shadow of herself, a fragile blueprint of the once so glorious queen. Her thick skin had worn off, her pride, solid as a rock before, diminished into a pebble, that was rolling around in her chest, knocking against her heart every once in a while. Every collision was a warning, a reminder that eventually she would have to let go of even this small stone.

Because Regina was running out of time. The many hours spent unconscious made it hard to tell the exact date but judging from the green shores she could catch sight of on clear days, the merry twinkles of sunlight on the lake, the warmth of the windowpane that betrayed the temperature outside, it had to be late May, if not June. The curse was due to hit in little over a month and so far Regina hadn't done anything to prevent it from striking Emma. She saw the lyon flower in her dreams, bold black lines, curling on Emma's wrist like always, terrible in their beauty, like snakes waiting to bite. She dreamed of Emma's sleeping form too, a pale corpse lying outstretched on velvet, skin contrasting cloth in a study in black and white. In the dreams Regina ran her hands through Emma's curls, bleached too, and disintegrating into dust under her touch, she brushed a finger over Emma's lips and they crumbled into ash, she searched for her magic to repair the terrifying damage she'd made, and she woke to pain and an all-consuming buzz. 

One night she jerked up because she felt watched. Emma's face had just decayed before her eyes, a mildew quality spreading out over once rosy cheeks after Regina had touched them, greenish at first and then rapidly blackening and when Emma was but a clump of coal she had opened her eyes and laughed at Regina's tearful face. "Do you like me better now?" The creature had asked, and Regina had backed away from her unseeing eyes with horror and then she'd woken up and she still felt watched. 

The room lay dark and empty as always, the window hung by a curtain made of the same material as her dress, the only source of light the torch behind the door. And in its shine, a figure. A tall, female figure, with curls surrounding her head like a halo and a face hidden in the shadows but Regina knew who it was. She was still dreaming.

Emma looked at her solemnly for a minute or so and though Regina couldn't see her eyes, she felt the steely quality of her guard firmly in place, a mask like a wall between them behind which the real Emma was hiding. She looked so tangible, so _alive_, it made Regina's chest contract with guilt and love and the knowledge that she had to act. Before this beautiful illusion could crumble into dust too, Regina closed her eyes. For once she slept through the rest of the night undisturbed.

The next morning she asked the guard in front of her door for an audience with Snow White.

* * *

The first thing Regina noticed about her nemesis was how flushed her cheeks were. After years of grief and loneliness, a healthy glow had returned to the skin. Snow's eyes too sparkled with newfound purpose, only a faint trace of the previous hardness to be seen, like a stubborn island in the flood of excitement.

Regina frowned. Although the buzz in her head was quieter than usual today - a circumstance she gave her self-discipline credit for, the solid focus on Emma she had sworn herself to retain throughout the conversation - her mind felt sluggish, weakened by weeks of fever and nightmares, and she couldn't for the life of her imagine what could have brought the sudden change over Snow. She looked almost happy, a bittersweet happiness that gave her spring to the step and drooping shoulders at once. It was, and Regina realized so with the incipiencies of alarm, like the happiness of a person who knew it was all going to end soon. It was the desperation and the determination to make every moment count. It was, in a way, resembling Regina's emotions one year ago - was it one year already? - the denial, the fear, the small, squeamish hope. 

It was also annoyance when Regina failed to start the conversation.

"What do you want?" Snow White snapped, all softness lost when she addressed Regina. A fresh hatred burned in her eyes, a flame that had been lost for years, a flame that would have stirred Regina's magic if she'd still had her powers, if she hadn't been drained almost completely already.

Regina made herself small under the glare. She was prepared to plead today, she wouldn't let Snow's changeable moods deter her from making her request.

"I have called for you to ask you-" she took a deep breath, "…solicit you for taking the memory potion." A short rehearsed break. "For Emma."

"I got rid of your poison long ago," Snow replied, almost carelessly, and something in Regina momentarily tightened.

"You discarded the vial?" Oh, she could have strangled Snow but she forced herself to remain calm. Obsequious, as difficult as it was. "That was our only chance to save her!" Regina thought quickly, tried to estimate the time they'd still left. "Let me go. I can manage to make another one."

Snow White threw her hands up, annoyance radiating off her in heavy waves, filling the room with thick dislike. "Regina, I don't _want_ your potion. And why would I let you go? Just because it turns out you told the truth about Emma doesn't mean I trust you. You are still the cause to our doom."

"A doom I'm trying to avert," Regina said emphatically, her voice raised to match Snow's. She swallowed, forced it down again. "I don't know what suddenly made you believe I didn’t kidnap Emma, but you will find I didn't lie. _I am trying my best to save your daughter_."

"Why do you insist on this tale?" She called out, angry at first, then desperate, "Why can't you just own your atrocities and..." She caught herself mid-sentence, a resigned smile forming on her lips.

"Emma is here, you know," she sighed, her arms slowly dropping on her head.

Regina's head snapped up, fast enough to make the room turn. Of course. _Of course_. Snow's animated eyes, the change of spirits, the resemblance to Regina's feelings before she too had lost Emma. The month-long absence without a sign, without a discernible reason. The renewed hatred. Emma was here, and she had visited Regina the previous evening. Emma was _here_, and Regina hadn't even known, had never dared to guess. Emma was here and she was alive and well - but not for long.

"She has returned back home," Snow interrupted Regina's thoughts, sounding about as tearful as Regina felt, "and the flower is still there, which means she will be taken from us. _You_ will take her from us, again."

_I'm sorry_, Regina wanted to say, because she really was, feeling, perhaps for the first time in her life, understanding for Snow White. In the end they were in the same position, both of them losing the one they loved most, both of them hating Regina for it. _I'm sorry_, Regina thought, but couldn't say it, the words like rocks in her chest, covered in cobwebs from disuse, and far too bulky to be pressed past the growing lump of tears in her throat.

"I shouldn't have come," Snow murmured, entirely unaware of Regina's struggles, as usual only hearing the fragmentation of her own heart. "This was a mistake. You know, every time we talk, I somehow have the hope that you'll tell the truth. That somewhere in you there's still the woman I used to know, the woman who was ready to help a girl on a horse. I should have learned by now that there is no hope for you."

The sudden change of tone reached Regina even through her haze. Her pain-addled brain had trouble keeping up with the news, her weakened mind slower than usual, but this tone was something else. This tone meant business.

"You're going to have me executed," she whispered, her throat dry with the sudden certitude.

Snow blinked twice before her gaze steeled visibly. "In two weeks’ time."

"Why two weeks?" Regina breathed, "Why not do it now?" And then she understood. "Oh." The curse. Snow would want to spend all her time with Emma now, before the curse would hit, far sooner than Regina had originally feared. Two weeks. She closed her eyes, fought against the crushing hopelessness that rose in her chest. It wouldn't do to give up, but then again, what use was staying strong if her body was weak, what use was thinking if her ideas died away unheard? A tear escaped her eyes, gathered slowly on her lashes, then dropped down. The impact was deafening, a splash that quickly turned into a flood as the tear rolled across her cheek, leaving a wet trail in its wake.

A thought rose to the surface, like a piece of wood in a river that slowly swelled with panic. If Emma was here, she focused on the thought, dipping in and out of view, if Emma was here...

"Where is Prince Neal?" She brought out, choking past the lump with sheer will. Snow already stood by the door, her back straight and proud although her shoulders slumped with defeat. She didn't turn around.

"What are you even talking about?" Her voice sounded out, tired and almost inaudible. Regina fought against the river inside of her, growing into a stream that threatened to drown her. Panic brought pain, the all-consuming buzz, and it played tricks on her mind, cutting through her thoughts and setting them back together in wrong order.

"Neal," she breathed out, and Snow opened the door, closed it behind her. Her shining black hair bounced once before the window as she thanked the guard. Soon she would be gone.

"Every curse can be broken," Regina murmured or maybe it was only in her head, she was leaking purple again, the last dregs of her magic fading away in tendrils of mist. "Every curse..." 

But Snow White had long left.

* * *

The knowledge that Emma was so close by and yet unreachable did little to improve Regina's condition. If anything, the nightmares became worse, twisted tales of betrayal and death playing out behind her lids, fuelled by the burning guilt that threatened to overcome Regina every second. 

The days began racing by, thirteen… eleven… eight; the sun rising and setting seemingly within the blink of an eye as Regina sat on her pallet, mutely gazing out of the window. Weather and wind reflected her moods, grey and gloomy at times where the spiral of self-loathing dragged her down until she was but a marionette with her strings cut, unmoving and robbed of strength, blazing and clear blue at others, when she swallowed the razor blades of compunction and tried to think.

It was a rainy summer.

And yet they existed, small flashes of lucidity, when the lake mirrored a ray of sunshine right into Regina's prison chamber and she was briefly distracted from the noise in her head, distracted just long enough to realize a number of things. _Emma is here_, was usually the first thought that crossed her tired mind, and it never failed to give her strength enough to keep going. Emma was here but Prince Neal wasn't. Sometimes she allowed herself the smallest of smiles at that. They never lasted long though because, Neal might be able to break the curse, and as far as Regina knew, The Whites didn't know about him.

At first, Regina had been wondering why that was. But she knew so _little_ of what was going on, having been locked away for so many months now - she had lost track of time, the only numbers existing in her head the ones that kept shrinking towards D-Day - and she quickly gave up on trying to fathom the reasons for Emma's behaviour because it unsettled her too much to keep the buzz away. She couldn't afford to waste her moments of clarity on anything that wasn't directly connected to the breaking of the curse.

Because breaking it seemed to be the only way to save Emma now. With seven days to go, there was no way Regina could help her now - even after the curse her chances remained miniscule but Regina refused to think about that too, having lost a buzz-free moment and three days of rain the first time she had. But the curse would bring Regina's execution, thus rendering her unable to be of any help if she hadn't contacted Neal before then.

At that point Regina had to think of Rumplestiltskin's plot and how she completely played into his hands. _Like a pawn_, she thought loathingly as the pain overtook her and another sunny day was lost - four - _like a damned pawn in his game_. She could almost hear the echo of a giggle before she blacked out.

"Let me talk to Snow White," she demanded from the guard when the storm had passed and light was cautiously peeking through the clouds again. "It is a matter of utmost importance." She had dreamed of Emma again the night before, of Emma the Princess, shrinking in front of Regina's eyes until the frilly dress she had worn lay flatly on the ballroom floor. A laugh had then sounded out, deep and throaty and hateful, and Regina had recognized it as her own with a terror that had woken her up. She thus didn't feel particularly strong, despite thinking _Emma is here, Emma is here, Emma is here,_ with grim determination until the noise had quietened to a barely tolerable hum. The guard's utter ignorance of her request was accordingly unwelcome.

Regina clenched her teeth, forcing her temper down as she wrapped her hand around one of the door's iron bars to support herself. "I need to speak to Snow White," she repeated, feeling the ward beginning to tug at her strength. "Immediately."

The guard didn't react, didn't even turn to look at Regina, whose fingers turned white as she fought to stay conscious despite her aggression. She _had to_ tell Snow about Neal, had to make sure Emma's parents knew how to save her when Regina wasn't around to do so any longer.

"Please," she ground out, the fury of humiliation taking her breath away, but the man didn't even move when Regina's grip loosened and she slid down the door and landed in a weak pile on the floor. 

Two days. Regina spent them silent although she wanted to scream. Rain pattered endlessly on the roof, transformed the lake into a grey turmoil, barely visible from the tower if it hadn't been for the occasional flashes of lightning that cut the skies into millions of sharp-edged shards and intensified the buzz in Regina's head. She never heard the thunder through it.

And just like that, the timer dropped to zero. The day of the curse had finally come.


	15. in which a prince is sought and found

Regina didn't wake up until noon, when a piercing pain ran through her body like ice and startled her out of her troubled sleep. The night had made her weak, haunted by her own thoughts, she had fallen asleep in the hours of dawn, when a pale light had already risen on the other side of the lake, casting the first shimmer of sunshine in days over the waters. Now the sun had risen properly and was blazing down on Regina as she turned to her side with a groan. 

A stinging sensation had overtaken the arm she'd been sleeping on, a tingle like pins and needles that instead of subsiding now she had freed her arm, only grew in intensity. It felt like thousands of ants had claimed her body, running over her skin with busy legs, spreading out from the arm over her chest and deep into her heart, until finally her whole body felt like it had gone to sleep.

_Sleep_. Regina sat up with a jump, the momentum almost carrying her over the edge and on the floor. Of course. The curse. 

The prickle turned into a burning, a sizzling poison in her veins that made her gasp for air and double over in pain. Was this how Emma felt, right now, was this how the curse consumed her? Regina had always imagined it as a somewhat peaceful process, like dozing off for all eternity, even though she should have known better. It was dark magic after all, the darkest, and it probably ate its way through Emma's body as it did with Regina's - in fact, Regina realized through the haze, wasn't that what she was feeling? A phantom echo of Emma's pain, a blueprint copy of the curse's effects to inform her, the caster, that the deed was done? 

Indeed, the burn subsided after a while, dulled to a numbness and then to nothing at all, leaving only the familiar throb of the ward in Regina's brain. And she knew, that somewhere else in the palace, Emma had fallen asleep.

A desperation rose deep inside of her, the final crest of the guilty wave that had been tormenting her for so long and she slumped down. The buzz came almost immediately, feeding on her pain, carrying her towards unconsciousness, but Regina fought the blackness. It was too easy to consign herself to unfeelingness, cowardly and, most importantly, useless. For what did it help Emma - and it was that determination to right what her curse had wronged that kept her in her senses, held the luring darkness at bay - if Regina joined her in faint? 

No, she needed to act, she needed to break free and get Neal, the Dark One's son who would be saviour, as much as Regina's insides revolted at the thought. The buzz swelled as she reached for the remnants of her magic, the room beginning to tilt dangerously. 

Regina shied back, released the grasp around her powers. Her heart was racing and a cold sweat had broken out across her brow but at least her vision returned to normal. She took a deep breath, determined to try again. She had to.

The stars came faster this time, dancing lights behind her eyes as soon as she'd even thought of using her magic. Damn Snow White and her stupid ward, damn the woman for outwitting Regina just when it counted. Regina swayed, fell back onto her mattress. Damn that noise that nibbled away at her nerves like a rat at taut ropes, that were dangerously close to ripping even without the additional strain.

Regina clenched her teeth but unconsciousness was approaching too fast, she had to let go of her magic. Breathing heavily she leaned back, allowing herself the briefest of pauses before she threw herself against the ward again, this time with the collective anger she'd accumulated inside. 

The spell's reply made her gasp for air, the sudden roar in her head twice as strong as her attack, driving the magic right out of her body in long swirls of mist. Regina closed her eyes and tried to focus on her inside. She could make out the powers deep down, like a faint purple glow in her core, duller and darker than she'd ever sensed it before. They had curled up into a ball instead of flooding her veins like they used to, providing only the smallest target; still the sucking forces of the ward found them with sure fingers, clawing violently away at the lump. Fury rose in Regina, reflected clearly in the growing of the purple spot. Immediately, the castle's spell grew too, sparkling blue hands that broke off huge chunks of Regina's magic and carried it away, leaving only black exhaustion in its place.

Regina sagged further and blinked, not sure anymore if the growing darkness was absence of magic or approaching unconsciousness any longer. It was hopeless, she thought wearily, clinging onto her last dollop of power with a weakening grasp as the blue tugged at it. How could she beat the ward if every move she made was mirrored twice as bad, how could she win if every ounce of magic she called into action only activated the spell further? 

_Touché Snow White_, she sighed inwardly, _for you have outwitted me at least_. Then she let go of her last resource.

In a tiny spot of her vision that was still unblurred, Regina watched the magic escape through her skin in a wisp of smoke, momentarily tinting her hand purple. Regina smiled weakly at the sensation, being reminded of Emma and her purple-stained body all of a sudden. With that calming thought in mind, she closed her eyes again and waited for the faint to claim her.

To her surprise, nothing happened. No, that wasn't right, something did happen in this instant when her eyelids fluttered shut and her heart focused on the memory: the blackness _receded_. Barely noticeable at first, the dark patches in her vision shrank into small spots again, and Regina could take a deep breath. 

Something inside her had changed, like a switch being actuated that pumped the air back into her lungs, the thoughts back into her head. Before she had gotten to her second breath however, whatever had saved her eluded her again. Oxygen became rare, the relief she had felt died away and she was brought to the border of unconsciousness by her own failing body once more. 

No, Regina thought, scrambling around for the switch inside her, the button that would keep the pain at bay. What had she done last time, what had let her fight the noise that threatened to cover her mind with rippling disturbance again? Purple, she remembered the purple, just like Emma's skin, back when life had been joyful and -

The darkness lightened. Regina nearly cried with relief as she clung to the memories; Emma in purple, smiling down at her in bed, Emma in red, blazing against the greens of the forest, Emma in blue, confessing her love. Step for step, the black bled away, leaving her vision clear and her heartbeat calm. Regina allowed herself a cautious smile, then focused inward once more.

A spark of magic had been reignited low in her stomach, just strong enough to keep her awake and in the present. It shone with a brilliant violet, vibrant and uncontaminated by darkness, and, most importantly and much to Regina's astonishment, it didn't alert the ward. No streaks of blue invaded her body this time, no greedy hands pulled the power out of her body, even the buzzing had quietened somewhat.

Regina blinked, surprised if not ungrateful about the sudden turn of events. The sun shone warmly on her back as she cautiously sat up, determined to not waste this opportunity of a second chance that had been given to her. Although her head still swam with the echo of pain, she seized her magic once again, weighing it in her mind. It felt different somehow, fugitive and erratic, not at all like the steady power she was used to. And yet it wasn't unfamiliar, quite contrary, Regina had experienced this particular tingle of energy before - when she'd been with Emma. 

Right on cue, her hands, outstretched in her attempt to focus her magic, flushed with purple, a stain like bruises covering her skin for the shortest of seconds before it escaped and clouded the air. Regina swore under her breath, certain that the ward would jump at the plum, suck it in like it had before, but nothing happened. Instead, the shimmer settled on Regina's dress, becoming a darker patch on the coarse grey material. What was more, Regina didn't feel the loss of it, like she had felt the absence of her regular magic after she'd been drained, not at all, because the spark in her chest had prospered into a flame, a bubbling fountain of energy that crackled through her veins like it had only ever done when she'd been close to Emma.

_Emma_, Regina thought, her heart warm with the memories, and her magic jumped and tainted the pillow purple. Oh, how the sight reminded her of other pillows, long ago, white and soft against Emma's long golden curls, and then speckled with magic when Regina had leaned over her to kiss her, long lavish kisses as she'd lost herself in the green depths of Emma's eyes. Regina's powers had never quite managed to overcome this green, though they had made short process of Emma's skin and hair. Soft touches and fleeting brushes had let the purple bleed from Regina's fingertips into Emma's body, a brief flaring of colour on her cheeks, her abdomen, her inner thighs. Regina had loved those moments, strange and inexplicable as they were, and Emma had laughed, unhindered and free, complaining about the tingling sensation.

The same tingle overcame Regina now, the pleasant feeling of calm and excitement at once, escaping through her skin in swirls of purple. The buzzing noise had died down completely, in its place there was warm silence, tender anticipation, as Regina's mind waited for her body to heal. For heal it did, the new magic like a soothing salve as it alleviated the aches of three months in prison. Of course Regina knew that the relief was only temporary, that proper healing would take time and rest, two things she didn't have. A superficial polish-up would have to do for now.

Soon the last dregs of nausea had been cauterised, the headache placated and even Regina's joints, stiff from the long-time of inaction returned to full functionality. Regina indulged in a satisfied grin as she stood. She was ready to go.

Her new magic didn't behave exactly as she'd expected it to. She had directed a light nudge at the locked door, a relatively easy spell that would have allowed her to test the waters, see if the ward attacked her when she started _using_ magic instead of just _having_ it. Besides, she didn't need the whole castle to know she was escaping. However, before she had even raised her hand into the familiar position, a flash of energy loosened from her fingertips and blasted the whole door off its hinges in an explosion of purple. 

Regina stumbled back. Everything was tinged violet, stone, wood, iron bars, even the armour of the ignorant guard, who had apparently been knocked unconscious by the sudden shock wave. Regina's own arms were stained, speckled with drops of magic, pure power laced through her skin and woven into her hair. She almost laughed - if only Snow White could see her now, she wouldn't dare to turn her back on her again, wouldn't put her in prison again, not Regina. 

She had not yet finished the thought when the ward latched onto her again. Strength left her rapidly, like a punch to her gut that made her double over, the pain was as vibrant as ever. But this time, Regina knew what to do.

She hadn't figured out the whole system just yet, why the security spell fed on her old magic but shied away from the erratic new one, why the powers felt different in the first place, how it was all connected to her mind, but one thing was very apparent. Thinking of Emma helped.

So she threw herself into her memories. The picture of Emma's birthday dinner came to her, the new crimson waistcoat fitted tightly to her frame, her hair like spun gold flowing down her back in loose curls. Emma's scornful expression when Regina had told her about her parents. That fine line between her eyebrows that always appeared when she was deep in thought. The sudden change, the gratefulness, the somewhat shy advance. The kiss.

Regina breathed purple. She hadn't even realized that she'd started leaking magic, but it was rolling off her in dense plumes, clogging the air with its distinct scent. All sense of weakness had vanished, she felt invincible in her battle-suit of crackling energy, and she couldn't help but think that this particular memory must have been a strong one. Almost floating on power, she made her way down the endless staircase of the tower.

At its bottom, another heavy wooden door barred her access to the castle, but it was unlocked and Regina could easily push it open. A long corridor stretched out to her left, brightly lit by enormous windows that allowed the sunlight to pour in. It was devoid of guards. Regina threw a short glance through one of the window arcs, taking in the, likewise empty, courtyard, then snapped her fingers for a mirror. She needed to find Prince Neal.

To her surprise, the very glass before her eyes, the colourful panes of the window, glossed over with purple, and then silver as it changed into a mirror. Regina's reflection, a dim silhouette before, sharpened into the detailed image of unkempt hair and a dirty dress, the traces of captivity still visible in the dark circles under her eyes, the pallor of her skin, despite the healing spell. 

But Regina hadn't called for a mirror to examine herself. Without even bothering to catch her own gaze, she waved her hand. Purple flooded the picture, shimmering like an oily liquid, before it bled away to reveal - 

Emma. Regina gasped, her concentration momentarily broken, her heart clenching for a split second. Immediately, the hum rose in her head. Emma lay on a four-poster, up in Snow's old childhood chambers. The drapes were drawn, hiding her face, her curls from view. Yet it was Emma, there was no doubt in the roughness of her hands, the stillness of her legs, primly crossed under the skirts of a rich silk dress that had been Snow's idea for sure. It was Emma, petrified by the curse, asleep under the weeping watch of her parents. 

Regina should have been prepared for the view. She'd felt the poison in her own veins, she had approached slumber together with Emma, bound by the spell, caster and victim. She had known she would have to face Emma's sleeping form eventually, delivering rescue in the form of Neal, and yet...

…and yet guilt sliced through her like a freshly sharpened knife, tearing her wounds open again, fed the buzz in her ears, and as Snow in the reflection rose her head, tears shining in her eyes, Regina keeled over. She scrambled for her powers, desperate to change the scene presented to her, but as her hands closed around the magic, it wasn't the new, strong kind, but the old one that activated the ward and robbed her of strength. Purple flowed out of her hands in wild, erratic patterns, and before she had properly thought about it, Regina pressed her palms to the mirror and thought of a happier day. 

A morning in May came to her, shortly before she'd told Emma about the curse. It had been one of the rare incidents when Regina had woken up before Emma, and she had carefully wriggled out of the tight embrace just far enough so she could bend her head back and observe Emma sleeping. The blonde had looked active even in her rest, eyes darting from side to side under her lids, lashes fluttering with a thousand images she saw in her dreams. Her lips had moved too, voiceless whispers to herself as she wrinkled her nose, frowned, smiled... and then, slowly, hesitantly, she had calmed down and opened her eyes. 

Yes, Regina thought, returning to the present only reluctantly, Emma lay still only in the instant between sleep and awakening. And she would awake again, if only Regina could manage to...

She cautiously opened her own eyes, peered through her lashes at the mirror beneath her hands. The Golden castle had manifested on the surface, a steady bird's eye view right through one of the arching windows. Behind the glass, Regina could see a curly shock of hair moving busily around. She had found Prince Neal.

* * *

Regina travelled by smoke. Although uncertain at first - the uncontrollable quirks of her magic today could very well backfire and trap Regina in a wall, or worse, in-between the places - she eventually took the risk after all. It was faster, and time had become a priority, especially since she'd seen the unnaturally still figure of Emma on the four poster. Besides, Regina argued as she called forth her powers and vanished in a plume of purple, as soon as she'd left White Castle, she would be able to resort to her usual magic again.

She managed the transport alright. Admittedly, she didn't appear in the map room she had seen in the mirror, next to the Crown Prince and ready to talk, but neither did she find herself stuck in a piece of furniture and that was, Regina decided, well enough. Until the sickness overcame her.

For what felt like the umpteenth time today, Regina stumbled and bent over, retching with the sudden urge to dispose herself of the meagre contents of her stomach. She frowned. Regina hadn't been sick from travelling for years, and it astounded her once more, how different this new magic was from her old. How much it felt like she was learning her way around the powers again. How inexperienced she was with it.

Because, after all, magic was magic, or not? It was the pooling of emotion into an external force, that recipe didn't change. Except...

Except. Regina sank down on a wooden pall in the corner of the dusty attic she seemed to have landed in. She wanted to slap herself. How could she not have seen it?

Magic was based on emotions, it consisted of feelings. So, of course there were different types of magic, different powers, depending on the core emotion it was made of. What had Snow White said about the ward? It fed on dark magic, _dark_, as in based on negative emotions, all the anger, all the pain that Regina had learned to forge into power years ago. But this new energy, a magic consisting of happy memories, of _love_, it was light magic, which proposed no threat to the ward. Of course Regina hadn't learned to wield it properly yet, it was a whole different class of power, one she had just started to discover when she'd lived with Emma. Purple-speckled bed sheets and unfamiliar tingles, it all made sense now. 

Regina wanted to cry - how could she have been so blind? She wanted to laugh too - light magic! Who would have thought that the Evil Queen was capable of that? She, who'd cast the darkest curse hitherto known to mankind, able to use light magic through the help of that very curse's victim? It almost sounded like - and her Regina allowed herself a disbelieving laugh, for it was the first time she thought of the word without contempt - fate. If it had really been her love for Emma that had managed to dispel the darkness so deeply lodged in her heart, then maybe that love was even strong enough to break... 

Regina brushed that thought aside before it had fully blossomed in her head. She had definitely spent too much time in Snow's presence lately, the naïveté had rubbed off. She was a fool if she thought that Emma still loved her enough to allow Regina to kiss her awake, and a time-waster too, who still lingered around the attic when somewhere right beneath her feet Emma's true love and saviour was still oblivious to his visitor. So, with a whiff of old, dark and admittedly slightly jealous, magic, Regina changed her prisoner outfit into one more befitting of a Queen and left the dusty chamber. 

The Crown Prince had his back turned to Regina when she stepped out of the smoke, yet he addressed her with the nonchalance of someone used to sudden appearances: "Not now, Papa."

If the shock of Rumple's betrayal hadn't still sat so deep, Regina would have laughed. Prince Neal of Gold, calling his father, the Dark One, most feared wizard of them all, _Papa_. As it was, Regina grimaced, before putting on a neutral expression as Neal turned around. The flicker of surprise and, indeed, fear in the man's eyes gave her some satisfaction though.

"Regina," Neal said in his annoyingly colloquial style. Regina barely refrained from rolling her eyes and limited herself to huffing indignantly.

"_Neal_," she replied, a false sweetness in her voice, "No need for formalities today, I don't come in an official matter." She let her eyes travel over the Prince, inspecting. He was handsome, she supposed, if one were into slimy grins and over-styled curls. To be honest, Regina couldn't fathom what Emma saw in him, but - a searing sting accompanied this thought - he would have to do. 

"I'm here to ask you a question." She made sure her tone implied that she'd only accept one answer. Neal understood only too well, for he swallowed a bit nervously. 

"Ask away, Your Majesty."

Regina had to admit, she was rather relieved that her aura hadn't lost its predatory shine during the long months of captivity. On the contrary, she slipped into her role as Evil Queen almost automatically, the man in front of her infuriating enough to fuel the darkness. She would have to be careful once they were back in White Castle, as to not let her repulsion get the best of her.

And yet, Regina noticed as she curled her lips into one of her old smirks, and yet the Evil Queen had become a role she was reluctant to play. A costume that she could cast over now to get what she needed, but preferred to store away in her closet the rest of the time. Nothing like before when she'd allowed the Queen to become her only role, a permanent mask to hide herself behind, she now found it to be more of a burden.

Alas, it had to be. So Regina painted that smirk, followed the stage directions by stepping closer to Neal and leaning in until she could hear his accelerated heartbeat, delivered her lines with immaculate precision:

"A little bird told me you won the princess's heart..." She placed a delicate finger on Neal's chest - Oh how she longed to rip his fluttering little heart out and crush it once and for all - and tapped twice. "And she owns yours in return."

"I don't - " Neal began but Regina cut him off. She wouldn't play this game any longer than she absolutely had to. Her own heart, littered in fractures all over, was barely held together by what little glue of feigned indifference she had dabbed it with, and she would be damned if she let it ultimately break in the enemy's presence.

"Nonsense," she therefore interrupted, only a tad shriller than she'd intended, "There's no need to lie to me. Just admit your mutual love and we are off to save her life."

To Regina's surprise, Neal's eyes widened in shock. "What?" He asked, the faint tremor in his voice leaving no doubt about the state of his heart, "Is Emma in danger?"

Regina hesitated. What was he playing at? Prince Neal knew perfectly well of the curse, Emma's constitution, the whole evil scheme of his wretched father - or didn't he? The alarm in his eyes looked genuine, but then again, he'd had the Dark One for a teacher. Regina narrowed her eyes.

"If you are mocking me, I assure you the consequences won't be to your liking."

Neal's distraught face turned confused. "I don't understand... What is wrong with Emma?"

Regina arched an eyebrow. She was almost inclined to believe the Prince. "You seriously haven't heard of the curse resting on White?"

"A curse?" Neal sputtered, actually sputtered, and at last Regina was convinced. So Rumple had kept his plan a secret from his very own son. It was less of a surprise than the existence of a son in the first place, and so Regina didn't find it all too hard to adapt to this change. If anything, it reduced her hatred for the Prince...

Or not. Who was she fooling - the discovery of Neal's apparent innocence in the whole matter of the scheme just made it harder for Regina to go through with her plan. Before, at least her loathing had been reasonable, justified, and one day she might have been able to take revenge, by exposing Neal and his family to the White's, deliberately shifting the blame away from herself. Maybe she could have made something resembling peace with Emma, having aided her rescue, having redeemed herself.

Now all she could do was swallow down the bile rising in her throat at the honest worry in Neal's eyes and lay down her plan in front of him.

"It's a sleeping curse," she said, her voice icy with desperate indifference. "It has befallen the Princess, Emma, who will remain in this state forever, unless _somebody_," she gave Neal an indignant look, "saves her."

"How - ," the Prince dared to object, before one glare from Regina silenced him. 

"Yes, how do you break a curse?" She asked scathingly. Her heart trembled precariously, she continued in spite of it, laced more poison through her words as she went. "How do you wake a princess?"

"You mean...?" Neal murmured, nervous, unsure, and for a split second Regina wondered what had happened to the cocky Prince she'd known before. What had changed him? Or had it been a who? Had Emma…?

She quenched that thought right there, including the treacherous satisfaction and false hope that came with it. She had sworn herself not to think too closely about what had been going on between Prince and Princess, lest she'd get distracted from her mission. 

"You know what to do," she said curtly, keeping up her business-like charade. "I suggest we wait until nightfall, then I take us both to White Castle. Have you travelled by smoke before?"

"Yes," Neal confirmed, the only hint Regina got at his lineage. He looked out the window where the sky was slowly tinging red. The sun set earlier here in the east, still Regina's escape had taken longer than she'd expected. At least that way she didn't have to spend all that much time with Neal.

The room fell quiet between the two of them. Regina busied herself with preparing as well as she was able for her return to the warded Castle. Although it gave her more pain than she was ready to admit, she went through her memories of the almost two years Emma had lived with her. In the hour it took until night had properly fallen, she relived every conversation, every touch, every emotion, sorted them into piles according to their usefulness, assigned emergency words she was certain she could remember in crucial moments when the ward weakened her mind, lined them up in neat succession to make sure she had one ready at all times - all the while her heart was throbbing with the ache of loss, the sting of jealousy.

Neal too kept to himself, though he paced the room in a manner that drove Regina crazy until she snarled at him to "stay in one damn place or else" at which point he slumped on a chair immediately. He really _was_ changed then, Regina reflected, a new jumpiness about him whenever Regina directed her eyes his way. She tried to find satisfaction in his fear. She failed.

Regina had just stood up from where she had perched on the windowsill, ready to give the signal for departure, when Neal finally worked up the courage to speak.

"Emma... She and I, we didn't exactly part as friends," he said, just loud enough for Regina to be sure she hadn't misheard.

"Excuse me?" She asked nonetheless, impatient. She really didn't have the capacity to deal with the diminished Prince any longer. 

"We had a fight before she left."

"So? People fight. That doesn't mean you can't save her. Stand here," Regina pointed at a spot much closer to herself than she would have wished, "And do try not to get sick." In her head, she told herself the same. She would use light magic to travel back into the castle, to be on the safe side.

Neal shuffled to his assigned place, his eyes never once meeting Regina's. At this short distance, Regina could make out a faint shine of sweat on his brow, a nervous twitch around his left eyebrow. 

"Why are you here?" He asked, when violet smoke already started to engulf them, curling tendrils growing from the floor like ivy. 

Regina rolled her eyes but didn't allow her concentration to drop. In her mind she saw Emma on an autumn afternoon, hair littered with loose leaves from the tree she had just climbed down from. In her hand sat a little bird - the genes, after all - and she fixed Regina with a strict gaze until the queen gave in and extended a hesitant finger to the bird. It fluttered away immediately, leaving Regina to glower and Emma to collapse with laughter.

The smoke swelled, purple filling Regina's mouth as she spoke. "Doing my part in the Princess's rescue."

"Why Emma?" Neal's voice came from far away and all too close at once. They were travelling, approaching the fiendish ward at rapid speed. Regina closed her eyes. _Why Emma?_

_Because I love her_. They had entered the castle, the buzz nothing but a memory of the noise in the back of her mind. "Shush now."


	16. in which a curse is broken

For a moment the darkness was solid enough to reduce the world to stones and breathing. Stones in the form of a wall that pressed into Regina’s back and side with somewhat reassuring vigour, reminding her that she once again had managed to land in free, unclaimed space. Breathing in the form of the Golden Prince, still standing close enough to Regina so she could feel the puffs of air on her throat, hear the ineluctable shuffling of his clothes as he turned away to retch. 

Regina wrinkled her nose. At least he had moved aside to allow the queen to assess the situation.

She had to compliment herself. The smoke had released them in the corner of an irregularly shaped room, hidden from view by the looming shadows of a gigantic armoire. To her left, the stones gave way to arching windows; half-covered by silky curtains they allowed moonlight to pour in and bathe everything but their corner in shades of silver. In the middle of the room stood the four poster.

It took a remarkable amount of self-restraint for Regina not to rush over to Emma's bedside immediately. Through a gap in the drapes she could make out the ivory cloth of the Princess's dress, the pale curve of her hand draped loosely over her waist. Again it struck her how still Emma lay, no twitching fingers, no endless shuffling to find the optimal position, no slight snoring in Regina's ear as she curled into the Queen's embrace. Instead, a deathly silence.

Regina banished the thought as quickly as it came to her and focused on her task instead. Neal was still heaving quietly as she squeezed past him and checked the vicinity for guards. Picturing Emma smiling gently at Roni as she cleaned the horse after a ride, Regina sent out her magic like misty fingers, through the closed door and into the corridor beyond. Two men, reported her powers, positioned on either side of the door. 

Regina arched an eyebrow. Apparently her escape hadn't been discovered yet, or the castle would be crawling with guards, especially the wing containing Emma's chamber. But this, this was almost too easy. 

Lifting her hand, Regina rapped at the door, once, twice. She could picture the guards pricking up their ears, exchanging a mystified glance. She knocked again. A whispered conversation took place on the other side of the wood, "You hear that?", "What, you too?", "Reckon it's the Princess...", and then, slowly, very slowly, the door swung open.

The first guard fainted before he'd even crossed the threshold, a plume of purple, a surprised yelp, and he collapsed into a human pile at Regina's feet. His companion wouldn't be overwhelmed quite as quickly. Warned by the sound, he stepped back before Regina's magic could reach him, turned around and hurried down the corridor. It cost Regina three blasts - an evening by the fire with hot chocolate, an early walk through the park when Emma had spotted a squirrel, Emma begging her to do her hair again even though the braid was perfect because _"if you weren't queen, you should consider a career as professional scalp masseur" _\- until she hit the guard square in the back and sent him stumbling into the wall.

The noise was ear-splitting, metal meeting stone in a spectacular crash, and for a split second fear overtook Regina's careful concentration, and she listened for a reaction with a racing heart and trembling hands. But for once she was lucky, no sound of alarm reached her ears, no hurried footsteps towards Emma's chamber, no cry of "_The Queen, she's here_!" Regina breathed out, forced her heartbeat to return to its normal rate. When she closed the door and turned around, Neal was already leaning over Emma.

"Hey, Ems," he whispered, and Regina was behind him in a flash, looming just close enough so she didn't have to see Emma's lifeless face as she fixed Neal with her freezing glare.

"Now kiss her," she ordered tonelessly, ignoring the rising dread in the pit of her stomach. "Kiss her with all the love," her voice trembled but only in the slightest, "all the love you can muster."

Neal sent her a quizzical look, hesitating with his hand already looped through Emma's, his fingers already brushing over her arm. 

"She mentioned you sometimes," he said, just when the last drops of Regina's patience threatened to dry out. 

She froze. _Oh yes?_ she wanted to say, brazen, indifferent, but the words turned into rocks in her throat, too heavy to rise to the surface. She cursed herself for her weakness, felt the ward's pressure on the edges of her mind but couldn't bring herself to focus. Oh how she hated Neal for making every step of this even more complicated.

"Kiss her," she rasped, desperate, almost pleading. Still that damn Prince hesitated.

"She spoke your name in her sleep," he whispered, his voice throaty with emotion too. The words lodged themselves into Regina's heart like poisonous arrows, eating away at the already torn edges.

"Why are you telling me this," she tried to demand but it came out choked instead, "Why won't you just..."

"Because we parted in fight, and she blamed me for being a lying Royal just like you, and then she clamped her hand over her mouth and looked like she was ready to puke - "

A pang like a slap in the face ran through Regina, leaving the familiar buzz in its wake. She swayed, grabbed at one of the bed's pillars for support.

"Regina," came Neal's voice, as if through a haze, "What happened between the two of you? Why are you so set on saving her?"

The pictures came without Regina's consent, pictures of that last evening together. The night of the fight. Emma's broken smile, confused, dejected, her tearstained cheeks, eyes full of fury, that awful silence as she'd waited for Regina to tell the truth, the blue dress, fluttering in the evening breeze as she ran off, her silhouette, black against yellow, hesitating at the stables door. Regina's mission.

"Because I promised," she whispered, not looking at Neal and definitely not looking at Emma. "I promised I'd save her and I intend to keep my word so _please_," she swallowed thickly, "kiss her."

And finally, finally, Neal did.

He leaned behind the drapes with a kind of tender gentleness that made Regina hate him a tiny bit less, leaned out of view and into a world that was his and Emma's only. Regina turned away, averted her eyes towards the moon, used the memory of moonshine tangled in Emma's curls to block out the buzz, and waited. 

She knew how it would go, the kiss, the rainbow light, the gasp of breath, the first throb of a heartbeat, the soft whisper of a name that wasn't Regina's. She was prepared to leave then, after she'd made sure Emma was alive and well, and she held her magic at the ready to vanish as soon as possible.

But nothing happened. There was the kiss, Regina heard as much, the quiet smacking of lips that made her stomach churn and her heart shudder in its weak frame, and then... nothing. Another smooch, after a silent curse on Neal's part, a kiss that Regina pictured as lingering, desperate, dragged out as if the Crown Prince could draw the rainbow out of Emma's mouth with sheer willpower. A pause of nothing. Then, just as Neal leaned over a third time, his figure a shadowy silhouette through the drapes, Regina couldn't take it anymore.

"That's quite enough," she said icily, grabbing the Prince by his shirt and forcing him back. She gripped his chin, made him meet her gaze with his contrite eyes.

"Why isn't it working?" She demanded to know, her insides aflame with a mixture of fear, jealousy, anger, and a frantic amount of good memories to tamper the buzz. "Why can't you wake her?" 

"I told you we fought," Neal protested. Somewhere in the back of her mind Regina knew her reaction was unreasonable, knew that in the end it all came down to Emma's feelings, knew that placing the blame wasn't helping any of them, but all her focus went to keeping her magic light, and so she shook Neal once more for good measure.

"But you are _in love_." 

At that, Neal yanked his collar free from her grip, a dangerous flash in his eyes that Regina recognized only too well. 

"Apparently Emma disagrees."

"So you are useless." She couldn't keep her voice down, couldn't bring herself to worry about more guards or even Snow and her Prince. The buzz rose in her ears but she was doomed to die anyways and what did she care about Neal. "My escape, useless, getting you, useless, you - useless."

"It's Emma's heart that is sealed, not mine," Neal reminded her, braver now, that Regina's fury was directed at him anyways. "I offered her everything but she didn't want it."

"Don't you dare blame Emma!" Regina spat, stars starting to dance before her eyes as magic pooled in her palms. "She proved to have excellent judgement in your case."

"And what about your case?"

"Enough!" Regina threw out her hands, streams of purple smoke flowing from her fingers and weaving around Neal's figure in dense swirls. The ward reacted immediately, crashing down on her in a wave of electric blue, tugging and yanking at the magic. A deafening noise filled her head, a sound like alarm bells mingled in the buzzing, shrilly ringing out the intrusion. Regina staggered, the purple petered out and vanished, but not before Neal too dematerialized in a plume of colour.

In the last glimpse she caught of him, his face had become a mirror, reflecting Regina's own pain, the unrequited feelings boiling in their hearts, the jealousy like acid in their blood and Regina almost smiled. It would have been a bitter smile, hiding her lips in two thin lines just like she was hiding her pain in sharp gestures and sharper words, but Regina couldn't even manage that. The muscles denied her the control, stayed fixed in place like a broken puppet no matter how hard she clenched and unclenched her teeth. 

The noise came in waves now, running in and out of her mind in a rhythm just slow enough to keep her conscious, yet too violent to find any relief in the breaks. In a way, Regina welcomed the pain, dropping in at intervals to keep her company as she waited for Snow and David to heed the ward's alarm. Half-leaning, half-fainting against Emma's bedpost she stood and waited to be taken back to her cell.

So her plan had failed.

She found herself thinking how the words ought to taste better with every time she had thought them during her endless, fruitless, useless quest, how her tongue ought to get used to the bitter taste, how it certainly shouldn't become more potent with every repetition, like a cave that got hollowed out by the recurring tide.

And yet here she was, with all that space inside of her that had to be filled, and there was Emma, ever-silent and still deeply asleep, hidden behind the heavy drapes. 

So far, she had avoided to take a direct look at Emma's still face, both afraid that the horror would unsettle her too much and certain that she wasn't entitled to the view. But now, with Neal gone - and who knew what havoc he might have wreaked with all his useless kissing - and the looming threat of her execution in the offing - for she wouldn't bail, would accept the sentence for her misdeed gladly - now, that their time ultimately drew to an end, Regina felt she didn't want to go without at least seeing Emma's face one more time.

She moved cautiously, listening for approaching footsteps as her hand closed around the edge of the drapes. The castle lay silent still, hardly a minute having passed since she banished Neal with dark magic, and then she drew back the curtain and all those thoughts evaporated as she lay eyes on Emma.

She definitely looked gorgeous still, her hair fanned out over the pillows to form a golden halo, her skin pale silver in the moonlight, but clean, unblemished as it had never been before, her slender body wrapped in ivory silk, the dress well-fitted like an embrace. She looked gorgeous, angelic in her stillness, and yet Regina shied back from the view, scared away by the sudden notion that _this wasn't Emma_. 

Emma, her Emma, had been defined by her wildness, by motion and momentum, and her beauty, though ever-present, had been fleeting, like a glimpse of something you caught and then never found again. It had consisted of a multitude of facets, melting together to new images all the time, images that sometimes happened to be similar but never exactly the same.

Her eyes had been playfully green at one moment and then mystically grey in the next, but now they were shut and unchanging under lids too perfectly pale to belong. Her skin used to be sun-kissed and dusted in freckles. Now it shone almost white, her freckles a lifeless grey, veins a shadowy web beneath. Her hair, those bouncing curls that should be catching the light with every toss of her head, thirty nuances of gold in the sun, her hair was now a dull mass of yellow, straightened out into that halo, flawless safe for one stray strand at the side, which crossed the pattern and caught Regina's eye. It struck her that it had to be Neal's doing, upsetting the perfect symmetry when he'd cupped Emma's cheek for the kiss, but still, in spite of her jealousy and her hatred, Regina had to smile. This defiant streak of hair was the only thing about Emma that paid her character justice; that felt right in its truculent disorder. 

Slowly, almost without noticing it, Regina reached out and pulled another strand free from the circle, let that familiar soft hair slip through her fingers and fall randomly back onto Emma. It now crossed Emma's face, a blond line from her left temple down to her right cheek, and Regina half-expected Emma to wake up and push it aside, to complain how it was tickling her. Of course, nothing of the sort happened, and disappointment rolled over Regina again in aching throbs, while she continued to disarray the stranger angel into the Emma she knew. 

She started with the small things, the hair, the dress, carefully ruffling it until it seemed as if Emma had just come in from outside and thrown herself on the bed. Regina's fingers went through the motions methodically, hesitantly at first, then more and more frantically when none of her actions invoked a reaction. Her hand brushed against Emma's face, trailed down her neck, and then couldn't stop touching Emma's skin. Her bare arms, her limp fingers, the small space between collarbone and neckline, and over and over again her face, and Regina caressed it all with increasingly desperate touches, pleading, scrambling for something, anything. 

Still Emma remained lifeless, her chest rising and falling with the slightest of motions, barely noticeable, her heartbeat neatly hidden away behind layers and layers of deadly magic. Regina could feel that too, the underlying hum of the curse, linked to her own magic with ethereal lines. They pulled at her with an invisible force, reminded her with every passing second that this sleep was _her_ doing, her fault. 

Regina choked out a sob, her chest contracting up to the point where she lacked air, unspoken words blocking the path, promises she'd given, admissions she'd never made, and now it was too late. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered, not that it mattered now, not that any of the lines she wanted to say mattered at this point. "I'm so, so sorry."

A tear escaped her eyes, liquid gathering at the top of her eyelashes, thick and round and _purple_ and then it dropped down onto Emma's cheek in a startling circle of colour against the white. The magic seeped into Emma's skin, blossomed out until it resembled a bruise, and Regina stared at its dark shadow, a faint reminder of happier days, when Emma was still laughing at the sensation, laughing at the stains littering her skin, laughing at _Regina_, who was not yet enemy but confidant, friend, lover. 

Regina, whose heart was now breaking, as she leaned forward, closer to the fading purple, to press a last kiss to the mark. _I'm sorry,_ she thought, and _good-bye_, and - somewhere in the back of her mind, covered by a million thoughts of _too late - I love you._

Then her lips touched the colour on Emma's cheek, that perfect, kiss-sized shape, and Emma's skin, which had been so cold before, felt almost warm against her mouth, warm and alive and -

A blinding light erupted from her lips, a colourful beam, that washed over them in a surge of heat and magic, bright enough to force Regina to close her eyes, and when she opened them again, there was green, the sparkling green of Emma's eyes and they were looking right at her.

Regina reeled back, blinking, staring, confused, and Emma did the same and after every blink her eyes opened again and that familiar green stared up at Regina. 

"Emma," Regina breathed out after what felt like an eternity, and just when Emma murmured "Regina" in that voice, that wondering voice full of awe that she'd reserved for special moments. 

"Emma!" Regina said again, half insecure, disbelieving, half tripping over the syllables with joy. 

"Regina," Emma replied, and then she grinned, widely and unafraid, and Regina's heart skipped several beats because _Emma was real_ and she was awake and - 

"You broke the curse," Emma said, not as a question but declaratorily, merely stating the facts.

"I... I did." It was only now beginning to dawn to Regina that yes, that rainbow light had been what she'd waited for in vain with Neal, and yes, her kiss, her parting kiss, had actually woken Emma up and yes, that entailed... everything.

"You love me," Emma said, in that special tone again, slight disbelief mingled with wondering certainty. Regina smiled.

"And you me."

"You knew that though."

"Did I?" Suddenly Regina was crying, heavy tears of relief and happiness and all the strain of the past year rolling down her cheeks and dotting Emma's face with colour. Emma grinned, wider and wider, until a giggle escaped through her lips and she was laughing, gurgling, making hiccup noises against Regina's sobs.

"Kiss me again," Emma demanded through the giggles, dragging her hand out from where it was still clamped between Regina's, and tugging at the Queen's collar, "Come on; kiss me."

And Regina complied, pressed her lips to every purple bruise on Emma's cheeks, her nose, her forehead, her eyelids and finally, after Emma had yanked at her hair forcefully enough to make Regina hiss with relish, her mouth. 

If the curse hadn't been broken already, it would have faltered now, as their lips melted together in a kiss that was simultaneously familiar and new, secure from habit and exciting with rediscovery. Regina felt Emma's heartbeat, strong and rapid like her own, and she heard Emma gasping for breath against her mouth, and when she drew back after what felt like an eternity of kissing and still not nearly long enough, it was her name Emma whispered, "Regina," with all the wonder and happiness and love there was.

"It's really you," Regina murmured, trailing her hand through Emma's violet and golden curls, now thoroughly dishevelled. 

Emma grinned, her lips swollen and healthily red. "I should hope so. It wouldn't do for _my love_ to go around kissing other people."

"Oh, you mean like you and that Prince," Regina couldn't resist saying, and for a split second Emma's eyes were dark with guilt. 

"You had just broken my heart and Neal was... there."

Regina grimaced. "I know. I'm sorry about that."

"I know." Emma smiled and reached out a finger to paint a line from Regina's hairline over her nose and mouth, throat and chest and abdomen, until her hand fell away and lay loosely on Regina's thigh. "Sorry about Neal too."

Regina inclined her head to hide the goofy and entirely unqueenly grin that spread across her face. "Don't worry about it. Or maybe worry about the wrath of the Dark One about the failure of his plan - " she waved away Emma's confused stare with a smile. "We'll take care of that later. What I meant is, don't worry about Neal, I'm over that. Besides," and at that she couldn't resist smirking at Emma, "he told me you called my name in your sleep?"

A wonderful pink bloomed across Emma's cheeks, full of life. "Don't flatter yourself," she muttered, boxing lightly against Regina's thigh, "those dreams were nightmares."

Regina hummed, leaning forward to press another kiss to Emma's lips. "Whatever you say, dear." Then, because why not, when Emma's hand snaked around her neck again, pulling her closer and closer, and her other hand was slowly wandering up her thigh with very clear intentions, she bit down on Emma's bottom lip for good measure and added: "_My_ dear."

Emma rolled her eyes and giggled into her mouth, and her hand had nearly reached its destination, when suddenly the door flew open with a bang and startled them apart.

The shield of magic formed almost automatically, a vague purple haze shimmering around Emma, whose hand had withdrawn abruptly, eyes fixed on the door, and Regina, who, having made sure she were safe, followed her gaze and saw... Snow White.

Oh, right. 

Snow, eyes wide and blinking rapidly, Snow, mouth opening and closing and gasping for air, Snow, skin paler than pale as she staggered back, into the door frame, into the Prince, who stormed into the room behind her and skidded to a sudden halt when his wife fainted into his arms. He too took a double take at his daughter, hand still laced through Regina's hair, and the Queen, tear-stained and dishevelled and smug, giddy, triumphant and nervous all at once. 

Emma laughed, a somewhat shrill sound, and her grip around Regina's hair tightened up to a point where Regina hissed and turned to frown at Emma. Then, because Emma looked gloriously alive and her eyes were dancing with worry but also mischief, she disentangled the fingers from her tresses with a smile, a deep and loving smile, and she pressed a kiss to Emma's knuckles when the hand came free.

From the door came an undefined growl. Reluctantly, Regina turned away from Emma again, though their hands remained interlaced. Snow White was stirring in David's arms, eyes fluttering open with the hesitant slowness of someone who wished they wouldn't have to see what was awaiting them. Regina began to feel a bit sick - insipid though they were, enemy though they'd been, the Whites were still Emma's family, and their disapproval would make matters harder for all involved. 

Yet, when Snow finally stood on her own feet again and her particular paleness could as well be attributed to the silvery moonlight, all the White Queen said was: "How?"

Emma and Regina exchanged a glance. 

"Uh, Regina woke me up," Emma said, Regina shifting uncomfortably beside her. "She... kissed me awake."

Snow White blinked.

"On the cheek," Emma hurried to add, "at least in the beginning..." She had the audacity to wink.

Snow White looked as if she'd like to faint again.

"But," she stammered, fumbling for the Prince's hand to support her, "but that means... True Love!"

Regina growled, hating the blush that was intent on creeping across her skin. Emma laughed.

"Shh," she told her parents, while her hand sneaked up to cup Regina's cheek in a totally patronizing manner, "you're making her uncomfortable."

Snow's scandalized gasp when Emma pressed a sweet kiss to Regina's lips was the only thing that kept Regina from strangling her lover on the spot. As it was, she contented herself with scratching a warning fingernail down the inside of Emma's silk-enveloped thigh, which was hidden from the door's view by the still half-drawn drapes. Emma turned beet red as her hand fell away, and Snow sent Regina a suspicious glance when she looked up again with a smirk.

For a while nobody said a word, the Whites apparently trying to come to terms with the situation, if Snow's pained expression and David's forcibly casual smile were anything to go by; Regina herself gauging whether or not she dared to dissolve the shield yet. Just when she'd decided to keep it a bit longer, just until the Prince would let go of the sword still hanging loosely in his grip, Emma had enough.

Loudly clearing her throat she took Regina's hand and sat up straight. "Mum," she said, her lips carefully wrapped around the word in a way that suggested it was the first time she addressed her mother as such, and indeed Snow's eyes softened considerably. "Dad," and the Prince grinned naturally now; it was Emma's grin, just in masculine form. As the tension in the room receded, Regina breathed out. "May I introduce to you, Regina Mills? Regina, my parents." And then, Regina almost couldn't believe it, Emma grinned, widely and daringly. "I believe you've met before?"

Snow White sputtered, David grimaced, Regina froze, but then Emma gave her a nudge and she forced herself to smile. Compared to what she'd endured for Emma before, this should be feasible.

"Briefly," she said, and because Emma was beaming up at her with those irresistible dimples, she continued; "when we were still children." It was an offer of peace, to overlook the past if not forgive it, and Snow looked up in surprise but nodded.

"I distantly remember," she agreed. "It's been a while." 

Emma grinned and gave Regina a sound kiss that still managed to make Snow's tentative smile waver. Regina permitted herself a smirk. Oh yes, they might have buried the hatchet - for now - but that didn't mean she would go easy on her ex-nemesis. 

So that when David smiled and said: "So Regina, what are your intentions with our daughter?" Regina just had to hide her laugh and shrug in fake distress.

"Not many I'm afraid, since I'm to be executed later today?"

Oh, it was a joy, how quickly Snow's face could fall at the sight of her daughter gaping first at Regina and then her.

"Mum?!"

"No!" Snow protested, not seeing how both Regina and Emma failed at suppressing their amusement, how even the Prince betrayed a boyish grin at her genuine dismay. "No, of course we won't execute her, I mean, we would have, if she was still evil, but not _now_, Emma, not now that she's your True Love!"

And although Emma burst into laughter first, it was Regina who blew their cover by groaning loudly into the hollow of Emma’s throat.

"I’m starting to think waking you up wasn't worth this..."


End file.
